Trinkets
by Teacup of JAG
Summary: Mac has an unwanted admirer, Harm does not show up for work, and there are some very bad people with evil plans!
1. Chapter 1

Trinkets – Part 1

"Excuse me," the young petty officer said to the first person he found when he came off the elevator. "Is there a … Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie on this floor?" he asked, reading the name from the package in his hands.

The enlisted man that he asked, who happened to be completely new to the building, was saved from embarrassment by Lieutenant Simms, who happened to be walking by and stopped to intervene. "Is that a package for the Colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was asked by Lieutenant Nichols to make sure that she gets this."

"I'll take it to her," Harriet offered. "I need to get her signature on these papers anyhow."

"Umm, … no offense, ma'am," said the petty officer, "but I'm under orders to see that Colonel MacKenzie personally receives this package."

"None taken," she responded. "Let me show you to her office."

A moment later, Harriet was knocking at the Colonel's open door.

"Enter."

"Ma'am, you have a delivery," Harriet indicated the young man ready to pass on the box. "And I have some papers for you to sign."

The Colonel stood up and accepted the package. "Thank you petty officer. Dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am." He pivoted and left her office.

Mac put the brightly colored box at the far end of her desk and held out a hand to take the papers from Harriet.

"Aren't you going to open the package, ma'am? It looks personal."

Mac raised an eyebrow at Harriet as she took the papers and sat down to sign them. "Curiosity getting the better of you, Lieutenant?"

"No, ma'am," Harriet quickly denied. At Mac's look, Harriet amended, "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

Skimming over the documents in front of her, preparing to sign them, Mac decided to fill Harriet in anyhow. "This is the third box like this I've gotten. Lieutenant Nichols, who helps to oversee security in the building, has been sending them. … Trinkets, and I don't really know why."

"Really?" Harriet asked, her interest even more perked now.

"Yeah, I haven't had time to figure out what to do about it," answered Mac, signing the first two pages in the pile. "Things have been so busy here with the Bradley investigation and the Horne case coming up. … And speaking of the Horne case, where is lead counsel for the defense this morning? Commander Rabb was supposed to meet me at 0900 to go over strategy."

"I haven't seen him yet today," answered Harriet. "Maybe he got caught in traffic?"

"It would have to be an awfully bad back up. It's 0957," replied Mac without consulting her watch. She signed the last page and returned the documents to Harriet.

"Thank you, ma'am." She took them, but didn't move.

"Is there anything else?" Mac inquired.

"… No." She started to turn, but then halted. "You're really not going to check what's in the box? … It does say, 'open immediately.'"

Mac sighed. "Well, if it will make you happy, Lieutenant." Mac stood up and reached for the box. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for you being distracted from your duties due to wondering."

"I can leave, ma'am. If it's something … private."

"It better not be. I've hardly spoken two words to the man, and suddenly he's sending me knickknacks," said Mac, undoing the tape on the box lid. "Considering we're different ranks, he's walking a fine line. I guess part of me is hoping that if I just ignore him, he'll realize I'm not interested and let it go. I really don't want to make a scene returning these items or to have things get to the point where I have to make a report."

"Maybe Lieutenant Nichols just wants to be your friend," Harriet suggested, although her tone was not convincing. "Or maybe he wants to be recognized, you know, get some attention. It could be innocent …"

As Mac removed the lid and finally got a look inside, her face went pale, and feeling lightheaded, she quickly descended into her seat. Without taking her eyes off the box, she uttered, "Well, he's got my attention now. … And this is not innocent."

Suddenly worried, based on her superior's reaction, Harriet nearly dropped the papers she was holding. "What is it?" She tried to peek into the box, but Mac quickly put the lid back over it, blocking her view.

"You don't need to see this, Harriet. You don't _want_ to see this."

"Ma'am?"

"Is the Admiral in his office?"

"No, ma'am. He has a meeting with the SecNav this morning."

"Damn it." Mac was nearly hyperventilating, as she closed her eyes and tried to decide what to do.

"Ma'am, … Mac. Please, tell me, what's going on?"


	2. Chapter 2

Trinkets – Part 2

"It's Harm," Mac breathed, barely finding her voice. "He's got Harm."

"Lieutenant Nichols?" asked Harriet, confused.

Mac nodded. "Shut the door."

Harriet quickly complied. "Why would …"

"He wants me," Mac interrupted. "I don't know why. He wants me to come to him, away from the building. … I guess he wasn't happy that I ignored his gifts."

"So, he's using the Commander as bait?" asked Harriet.

Mac nodded. "It looks that way, … but … there must be more to it."

"We should call the police."

"NO!" Mac responded. "No," she amended more gently. "He says no police, no NCIS, no authorities, or Harm dies, and I can't risk that."

"What are we going to do?" asked Harriet.

"_We_ aren't going to do anything. _I_ have to take care of this," Mac firmly declared. "And you can't say anything to anyone. Nichols is practically in charge of security in this building, and if it gets back to him that I've told anyone …"

"Respectfully, ma'am, you shouldn't deal with this on your own."

Mac was already out of her chair and gathering her things to leave. "I have to try," she said, picking up the box and taking a step towards the door.

Harriet defiantly stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "No, you need to think this through."

"There isn't time. Now step aside, Lieutenant. That's an order."

The Lieutenant did not budge. "Ma'am, I care about the Commander. And I care about you. … And you need to think about this rationally. I don't know what's inside that box, but it shook you up. And with something this important, you can't let your emotions cloud your judgment. You need a plan, and you need help … or you could _both_ end up dead."

Mac was flooded by a flashback to the warning speech that she, herself, had given to Harm when they had been in Russia searching for his father. _You're being driven by emotions, and those emotions are going to get us killed_.

The Colonel deflated, took a step backwards, and leaned against her desk. Harriet was right. Running off to Nichols by herself, without a plan and without some form of backup, was stupid. She could barely think of anything at the moment except for wanting to rush to help Harm. She wished Nichols had just come after her. Why did he have to involve Harm?

Harriet's voice drew her back to the present. "Let me at least get Bud and Commander Turner in here. They'll both be discrete. … We'll figure something out."

Mac nodded weakly, and Harriet rushed off. The Colonel walked around her desk and sat back in her chair. She took a deep breath to strengthen herself and then opened the box again. Before her was a picture of Harm, bloodied and beaten, unconscious, and sprawled across a floor. She might not have even been sure he was alive except for a second photo, showing him with his eyes halfway open, his wrists handcuffed over a bar so that his arms were suspended above him. She knew that picture was taken after the other photo, because in this picture, there were fresh wounds on Harm's face that hadn't been there in the first.

His hand, twisted in the cuffs, showed his naked finger, his Academy ring gone. Gone, but not missing. The ring, itself, was in the box that Mac held. Sent like a memento of a lost loved one.

Her eyes drifted back to the picture of Harm's raw face, and she had to fight the urge to vomit. 'Think like a marine,' she scolded herself. 'Not a helpless woman looking at the most important man in her world being so hurt and looking so close to death.'

Sturgis appeared in her doorway. "Lieutenant Simms said you had something you need urgent help with?" One look at Mac's face when she lifted her head to him told Sturgis that something big was going on with the Colonel and that it had nothing to do with working her caseload.

"What's going …" he started to ask, but Mac put her finger to her lips, in a gesture to quiet him.

She then indicated one of her guest chairs for Sturgis to sit in, and Bud appeared with Harriet a moment later. Harriet closed the door, while Bud, though somewhat confused, used a small device to sweep for surveillance equipment, starting with the loosely closed box in front of the Colonel.

After a minute, Bud declared it to be all clear. Harriet breathed a sigh of relief and explained, "I thought about what you said about Nichols maybe monitoring things here, and I remembered that Bud has been tinkering with this device."

"It's a CIA throwaway, but it still works," Bud added.

"What's all this about?" asked Sturgis, eager for some answers.

Mac paused and then handed him the box.

"Oh, God, … Harm," was Turner's exclamation.

"What's happened to the Commander?" asked Bud.

"These aren't pretty," Sturgis warned, handing the photos over, while he looked over the note.

Bud did not hand the photos to his wife, but he described their essence, which was enough to drain the color from Harriet's face, as she brought a hand over her mouth in shock.

"There's a restaurant named in the note," said Mac. "I'm supposed to go there in two hours and ask for a message at the bar, so I guess I'll get further directions there."

Just then, there was a knock at the door and it swung open, despite the Colonel not having given permission to enter. "Does someone want to tell me what all of my senior staff is doing in here when there are …" The Admiral stopped short when he caught view of something that had dropped to the floor while Lieutenant Roberts, along with all the other officers, had rushed to stand up.

"Not _all_ of your senior staff, sir," said Mac, knowing that the Admiral had just caught sight of one of the pictures of Harm. "If you could shut the door behind you, sir?" she implored.

TBC …

A/N: Thanks for the feedback! I forgot to mention earlier that this story was inspired by the Feb 2010 HBX Challenge lines: "He's got my attention now." "He's always had your attention."


	3. Chapter 3

Trinkets – Part 3

Three hours later, Mac was approaching a gutted out building in an abandoned city block outside the heart of Baltimore. She glanced around as she drew the gun out of her jacket pocket. She had changed out of her uniform earlier; there was no way she was walking into this situation in dress shoes and a skirt.

She had considered wearing her fatigues, but decided that she didn't want to appear to be in complete battle mode, although there was no doubt in her head or heart that kidnapping and beating Harm was a declaration of war, and she would not let anything else happen to Harm without a damn good fight.

She reached the door to the place with the address that was written on the slip of paper she had been given at the restaurant named in the earlier note. Checking the entrance for wires, she eased the door open and then slowly entered the building.

It was dark inside, the only light coming from the few windows that were not boarded up. She reached into her other jacket pocket and drew out a flashlight, but before she could turn it on, a bright light hit her face, making it impossible for her to see anything.

"Now, now," scolded a voice from somewhere on the other side of the room. "You can just drop that gun right there, and you won't need a flashlight."

Mac hesitated.

"Come on, Colonel, drop the gun or you won't make it another step.

Very slowly Mac raised both the gun and the flashlight so that they could be seen, and then she lowered them to the ground.

"Good, now take off the jacket and put your hands up."

Mac did as she was told. Not a moment later, a pair of hands had snatched the jacket away and was patting her down for other weapons or devices. "You didn't really think I'd let you come in here armed, did you?" asked Nichols, shifting to check Mac's other side.

"Couldn't hurt to try," said Mac, stoically. "A handgun wasn't one of your rules. And the bartender only asked to confiscate my cell phone in exchange for me to get this address."

"Huh. I forget sometimes that you're a lawyer. Always lookin' for a technicality."

"Occupational hazard," said Mac as Nichols turned off the bright light, leaving a dimmer one on, and trained his gun on her. As her eyes adjusted, they scoped out the room but saw no one else there. "Where's Commander Rabb? Is he here?"

"Always with him!" Nichols blasted out in frustration. "…Day after day, you would pay me no mind. Walk right by me like I didn't exist. But _he's_ always had your attention. Rabb is an ungrateful piece of slime! He doesn't deserve you."

"He doesn't have me," Mac corrected. "We're just colleagues … and friends."

"You think I'm blind! I see the way you look at him. Do you know how much security footage I have of you two … flirting? Of you looking longingly at him when he's got his back turned?"

Mac didn't deny anything. "What is it you want?"

"I thought I'd made that plenty clear," said Nichols. "I want you to give me a chance."

"A chance for what?"

"To be with you. I can make you happy … if you let me."

She wanted to ask him in what universe kidnapping and beating someone's best friend would be expected to make that person happy. But it was better to play along.

"Fine. Maybe you deserve a chance. But I need to know that …" She was about to say 'the Commander is safe,' but decided to rephrase. In order for the guy to cooperate, this had to be about Nichols, not Harm.

So, she finished, "… that you aren't going to hurt anyone."

Jake Nichols paused. "Rabb is in the way."

"No," Mac disagreed. "He has nothing to -"

"You're _**only**_ here because of him! Admit it – You would do anything for him, and until he is out of the picture, you will never be able to give another man a chance."

"I'd be here if any of my colleagues or friends were threatened."

Jake laughed. "That's one of the things that I love about you. You're so … heroic. So … loyal."

"If you wanted to spend time with me, there were other ways."

"You'd never have time for me. I needed you to 'make' time. And if there's one thing I've learned, day after day, watching your actions in, out, and around the building, … it's that you will always make time for Harmon Rabb."

"You didn't have to beat him," Mac pointed out.

"Oh, _**I**_ didn't," Nichols said honestly. "That's the beauty of working with a partner. He gets what he wants, and I get what I want." He traced Mac's cheek and jaw line.

"Who is your partner? Why would he want to beat Commander Rabb?"

"That doesn't matter. He gets to play with the Commander, and I get to play with you."

A few seconds of silence followed, but Mac finally stated, "You disappoint me, Jake."

"What?" That was clearly not what he had expected her reaction to be.

She looked him in the eye. "You're not even in control of this situation. You're just a pawn."

"I am not!"

"Was any part of this plan to get me here even yours? Or did someone else think it up as a little extra for you to help him out somehow?"

"We made an even deal!"

"I doubt it. I'm an afterthought, collateral in a scheme that uses you as means to an end. This isn't about me at all."

"Of course it's about you."

"No, because you're not the mastermind here. This is about someone else having it in for Commander Rabb. I'm just a trinket. You just threw away your career for someone else's revenge."

"It's not about revenge. And I did this for you! For us!"

"And how did you think that was going to work, Jake? You really think I'm going to give you a chance when you can't even prove to me that you have any control over what's happening to the Commander. You may have me here, but you've lost your leverage on getting me to cooperate."

"No! No, I do have a say in what happens to him."

"Really? Is he even here?"

"Of course he is! He's upstairs."

"Prove it!"

"Alright. Alright, fine."

Nichols grabbed Mac harshly, yanked her hands behind her back and bound her wrists together. "So you don't try any heroics," he explained.

TBC …


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The good news is that this part is longer than the previous parts!

Trinkets – Part 4

Mac wanted to run to Harm as soon as she saw his weary figure slumped in the corner, but she knew that doing so wouldn't be wise.

Nichols was in a precarious emotional state, and she was already pushing things by threatening his ego to get him riled up enough to show Harm to her.

"See! I told you he was here," the frenzied captor declared.

Mac took a moment to survey Harm's condition. By no means did he look good. His wrists were still cuffed to a pipe above him. That and the walls were the only things keeping him from being completely crumpled on the floor. He wasn't awake as far as she could tell, but at least he was breathing. She was relieved enough by that to refocus on Nichols for the moment.

The man continued to rant, "I'm as much in charge of what's going on here as ... as my partner."

"I stand corrected. It doesn't look like your partner is even here. So, I guess that means you're in charge."

"Damn straight!" Jake cocked his head at her. Pleased that she was looking at him and not Harm, he more calmly asked her, "... Is that what you like? A man in charge?"

"... I do like a man who has a certain amount of power, who can stand up for things, make the right decisions when it comes down to it."

After she had spoken, her eyes did flit to Harm, prompting Nichols to point out, "Well, the Commander isn't in charge of anything anymore. He can barely stand up, period, and he certainly hasn't been making the wisest decisions."

"What do you mean, he hasn't been making the wisest decisions?"

"Let's just say, he wouldn't be in such bad shape if he would just cooperate. But he hasn't been talking, and that's not so good for his health."

"Talking about what?"

"... That's not for us to worry about."

"That's your partner's business," she deducted.

"Something like that, yeah."

Mac nodded. She wasn't going to push the issue at the moment. "You know, while I do like a man with an air of authority, ... that doesn't mean I like to be kept bound up."

Nichols regarded her for a second. "I don't want you to be bound up, but I can't let you be free yet."

She was disappointed, but the result was not unexpected. At least he seemed to have a sense of sympathy when it came to her. That could be useful. "So, what's the plan now that you've got me here?"

"Well ... I ..." Jake was clearly at a loss. "You're going to be mine."

"Yours, how?"

"I just ... I wanted you to pay attention to me."

"Okay. How about we sit down and talk," Mac suggested. She nodded her head towards the table and chairs that were located in that upstairs room.

Jake hesitated, but then agreed and gestured for her to walk to the seat.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"What?" he eyed her suspiciously.

"If my hands have to be bound, can you at least use cuffs instead of this tie and let them be in front of me? It's not going to be very comfortable sitting with them like this, behind me."

"I don't think that's such a good idea just yet."

"You're the boss," she conceded. Mac made her way to the chair that would allow her the best view of Harm, although she was trying her best not to look at him too much at this point. She made a big show of just how uncomfortable it was to have her hands bumping the back of the chair, so there was no way she could sit back comfortably.

She noticed a series of small television monitors set up along a wall, each showing footage of a different angle of the downstairs level and entrances. Nichols had definitely set up quite the surveillance system. There were even cameras set up in the car that she had driven to this building, the one that she had been given keys to and instructed to drive when she received this address from the restaurant bartender. Jake and his partner definitely did not want anyone tracking her.

The man sat across from Mac. He seemed a bit nervous, and he was sweating.

"You look like you could use a drink," Mac suggested. "You got any water around?"

"Yeah, it's downstairs."

"I can wait while you get it."

Jake looked over at Harm, still passed out, and then to Mac, as he weighed the dangers of leaving her unguarded.

Understanding his dilemma, Mac decided to assure him, "I'm not going anywhere."

Deciding to chance it, Jake did leave with a warning, "Don't try anything. I don't want to hurt you, but, so help me, if you try to bust out of here, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Mac again nodded. "I understand."

After another second, Nichols hurried down the stairs.

She didn't know how much time she had, but she had to check Harm. As far as she could tell, there were no cameras on this level, and she had to risk the movement. She quickly got to her feet and sprinted towards him.

"Harm!" she whispered loudly. "Harm, come on. I need you to wake up!"

No response.

She wanted to touch him, to shake him, to run her fingers soothingly over his sore face, but with her hands tied behind her, those weren't options. On her knees next to him, she tried turning and bumping him with her elbow, but that was awkward and didn't have any effect. She knew that she was running out of time before Nichols came back, and she really needed Harm to respond.

She leaned in close and put her mouth to his ear. "Harmon Rabb, you need to come to, now!" She closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose to his face, willing him to respond. She felt him shift, prompting her eyes to snap open. "Harm, that's it. Come on, open your eyes for me!"

He remained still. Needing to touch him again, she brushed her lips against his cheek. "Harm, I need you ..." She kissed the side of his face, despite some dried blood that was caked there. "... to wake up."

Deciding that he wasn't going to wake before Nichols returned, she indulged in one last nuzzle of her nose against his face and a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth. Glancing at the monitors, gauging Jake's progress, she shifted her weight to get up and return to her seat, when she heard a very weak laugh followed by a small cough.

When she looked back to Harm, his eyes were half open, and a small smile graced his sore face. "One nice thing about these drugs ..." he muttered quietly. "The hallucinations keep getting better."

"What?" Mac asked in a whisper.

"I could feel you this time, Sarah. Like you were ... really here."

She blew out a breath. "No, Harm. ... I _**am**_ really here," she sweetly assured him. "And we're going to get you out of this place."

She heard footsteps. "Nichols is coming back. I have to get back to the chair. Pretend you're asleep, but don't you dare pass out on me again!"

Before Harm could process all that, Mac was back in the chair, and Nichols was entering the room carrying two large bottles of water. He stopped for a moment to survey the scene, and then walked over to the table, placing the bottles down. "You were out of your seat," he stated.

Trying to cover, she reminded him, "I told you that it isn't exactly comfortable to sit like this."

He looked over at Harm, who did have his eyes closed, but whose head was in a different position. Jake again looked at Mac, this time with more suspicion.

"Okay," she admitted, "I got up to check on him. I just wanted to make sure he's still alive. I bumped into him and his head rolled. He's not conscious, but he's breathing."

Jake sat down. He was not pleased. "You're going to have to let him go."

"I'm hoping that _**you**_ will let him go," she stated. "You've got me now. If you set him free and let him get some medical care, I'll cooperate."

"It's not that simple," said Jake. "And I really wish you would just ... stop thinking about him!"

"Okay, fine. Let's talk about you."

Nichols shook his head and took a swig of water. "You aren't gonna make this easy, are you?"

"I thought I was," Mac said. "You said you wanted my attention, and I'm giving it to you."

"Yeah, but you ..." His sentence was cut off by the sound of a cell phone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pre-paid phone. "Yeah," he said as a greeting to whoever was on the line.

"She's here. It worked just the way you said it would. ... No, he's still out cold. ... Wait, what?" Nichols stood up and turned so his back was to Mac. He continued in a quiet, but urgent voice, "I can't do that. ... No, man, that's your crap. You never said I'd have to ..." Jake looked over at Harm and blew out a calming breath. A bit embarrassed, he insisted to the person on the other end, "I don't like needles, okay. Why can't you just do it yourself when you get here?"

He started pacing with agitation. "Okay, okay, I get it! Where is it?" He walked over to where there was a duffel bag. "Yeah, okay. ... The white one? ... Uh, yeah, I see it." There was silence for a long time, while Jake listened to instructions. Eventually, he ended the conversation, "I got it. ... Yeah, see ya soon."

He pulled out a syringe with a needle and looked at it apprehensively.

"Is that for the Commander or for me?" Mac asked.

Jake had momentarily forgotten about his company, and he was startled by her voice. "This ... this isn't for you."

"So, it's for the Commander. Are you drugging him?"

"It's ... not mine," he insisted.

"But you intend to inject him. What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Then why do it? ... I swear, Jake, if you kill him ..."

"It's not supposed to kill him!"

"What's it supposed to do? Make him talk? Keep him sedated? What?"

"No, this one is supposed to wake him up," said Jake.

"Are you sure?" asked Mac, not at all wanting Harm to be injected with anything more that these people had. "How do you know it won't kill him?"

"Because ... my partner told me."

"How do you know your partner isn't setting you up?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What if he wants the Commander dead? By getting you to inject Commander Rabb, when your partner is not even here, he gets you to take the fall as a murderer."

"No, ... he wouldn't."

Mac raised her eyebrows at Jake, as if to say, 'Really?' She did say, "Well, whatever is in that syringe, he's having you do his dirty work. I thought you were equal partners."

"We are!"

"But you're following his instructions. You don't want to use that needle. You only got it out because he told you to." She looked her captor in the eye. "You told me that you are in charge here, that you can make decisions."

"I am."

"Then don't do this."

TBC …

A/N: What do you think, so far? And Palmer is a very good guess, but it's only a possibility!


	5. Chapter 5

Trinkets – Part 5

Nichols paused only for a second at Mac's plea for him not to inject Harm. He then raised his voice at her, "Having you tell me what to do or don't do isn't any better than having Clinton tell me!"

It did not go unnoticed by Mac that Jake had just named his partner, but there were more pressing things at the moment.

"You're right," she granted him in a more soothing tone. "This isn't my decision or your partner's decision. It's yours. … And I think that you've got the strength and wisdom to make the right choice."

Jake shook his head in frustration and stared at the needle. Then he looked from Harm to the phone that he had received the call on. After a few long seconds, he stepped closer to Harm and raised the needle.

Worried that Nichols was going to go through with it, Mac intervened, "You're not a murderer, Jake."

He turned his head to her. "It's not supposed to kill him."

"Are you really willing to take that chance?"

Upset by Mac's desperate concern over the Commander, Jake reacted, spewing, "Yeah, maybe I am! … Maybe it'd be better off if he's dead, huh? Hell, it'll put him out of his misery. And if he's gone, then you won't be able to be so hung up on him."

"Jake, … look at me," Mac begged. "Commander Rabb isn't a threat to you. He has never taken an interest in me as anything other than a friend. But _you_, … you like me, right?"

"Of course, I do. But …" Jake's left hand, the one without the needle, clenched with tension. "… you don't understand."

"Then tell me! What don't I understand?"

Jake just shook his head.

"Okay, … I'll tell you what I _do_ understand," Mac said more calmly. "I do understand that, despite all of this, you're a good person."

She was answered with a snort. "How would you know?" he asked. "You never gave me a second thought."

"I never did thank you … for the gifts, did I? … At least for the first two."

With a little bitterness, Jake responded, "No."

"Well, they were sweet. And … they do tell me something about you. I'm sorry I didn't say it before, … but, … thank you."

"Yeah."

"I, um, was wondering about the first gift," she continued. "The dog figurine. Is it a particular breed?"

"… I don't know. It just … reminded me of you. Its big, brown eyes."

Mac smiled just a little, "I had a dog not too long ago. His name was Jingo. I had to give him away when I went TAD, and then I couldn't exactly ask for him back. I think he is happier with Chloe anyhow. It's a better environment for him. … Chloe is my little sister. Not biologically, … but through the big sister program."

Jake knew that Mac was trying to keep him from injecting Harm, and part of him thought that he should just shut her up and go ahead. But a bigger part of him wanted to hear her go on. He wanted to know about her, and especially about what she thought about his gifts. And, … in truth, he didn't want to inject anyone with anything, so he stood there, frozen, letting her continue.

"Anyway, I appreciated the figurine. It's cute. And I like dogs. Dogs are very loyal, and loyalty means a lot to me."

Seeming more vulnerable than he had at any point before, Jake complained, "You didn't say anything … after you got it."

"And I'm sorry. I've been really busy with work, but I know that doesn't excuse my bad manners in not thanking you."

"I wanted you to come to me," said Jake. "I thought the second gift would have …" he trailed off. He started a new sentence, "I was hoping that we wouldn't have to take the Commander."

"You and Clinton?" Mac asked, trying to find out more about this mysterious partner. Assuming it was not the former president or his wife, the name did not mean anything to her.

Nichols nodded. "Clinton said he'd help me get you. When the gifts didn't work …"

"… Clinton helped you kidnap the Commander," Mac surmised.

"The other way around," Jake corrected. "I helped him with that. … We became partners. I got him security information. He wanted some info from the Commander. He said you'd come after Rabb, so it was a win-win situation. He could get his information from Rabb, and I would get you."

"What information?"

"I don't know exactly. But I don't think Clinton wants Rabb dead yet, because he hasn't talked so far. So, I really don't think this will kill him." Nichols indicated the needle in his hand.

"The second gift …" Mac started, worried that Nichols was refocusing on his task of injecting Harm. "Tell me about its significance."

"The pin?"

Mac nodded. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah. It's not much in the way of jewelry, but … it was my grandmother's."

Mac's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I'm … honored that you would have given that to me."

"Who else would I have given it to? You deserve the world, Sarah. I want to give you everything. … And this guy …" Nichols kicked Harm's leg, "… takes you for granted."

Not expecting the contact, Harm automatically winced in pain from the kick to his already bruised body.

Nichols was too preoccupied to notice Harm's reaction, but someone else who had just entered the room was very observant of everything in the scene before him.

"Well, well, well," the voice came from the doorway to Mac's left. "It looks like the Commander has decided to join the party again."

Startled and confused, Nichols looked up at his partner and then down at Harm.

"Oh, he reacted when you kicked him," the voice explained. "He's awake, … and you didn't even use the shot, did you?"

"Uh," Jake's gaze went to the still-full syringe in his hand. "… No."

The man walked towards Nichols and Harm. "Well, that's very … fortunate … for you." There was something sinister and threatening in his voice. He bent over and grabbed Harm's ear, yanking it and bringing the attached head up. Harm's eyes opened. "Hello again, Commander."

"Leave him alone!" yelled Mac.

The man, who she assumed was Clinton, turned his head towards her, taking in a good look. He smiled wryly. "And this must be our newest guest, the glorious Sarah MacKenzie." The man abruptly let go of Harm's ear without looking at him and then took a step towards Mac.

"I've heard wonderful things about you from Jake, here," the man said. "Well, except that you don't appreciate his devotion to you. And you really ought to be more grateful," he scolded. "The man was giving his heart to you, after all."

Mac looked to Jake. "Is this Clinton?"

Jake, flushing for several reasons, nodded. He was embarrassed that he hadn't been paying attention to the security monitors for Clinton to have snuck in like that, he felt like he was in trouble for not injecting the Commander as he was asked to, and he was uncomfortable with how his partner was discussing his feelings for Sarah.

Clinton scowled slightly in response to finding out that Jake had divulged his identity to their newest guest. "Well, now that we all know each other, I think it's time for us to get on with this party."

Nichols intervened, "Whoa, our part is done now. You've got him, and I stayed until you got back, but I'm taking Sarah with me now."

"You can't take her anywhere yet. Now that Sarah has joined us, the Commander is awake, and I'm back, … we have a new party game to play."

TBC …


	6. Chapter 6

**WARNING** - This part includes a bit of violent imagery and threats of violence that could be a bit harsh if you are very sensitive to such things. Not really any worse than what's seen on TV these days though.

Trinkets – Part 6

Three pairs of eyes set on the man, all with a certain amount of apprehension. Nichols was finally the one to speak though. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and I have a deal," Clinton reminded him.

"I've done my part!"

"You're not done. … I haven't gotten what I want yet, and no one leaves here until I do."

Suddenly smiling, Clinton patted his partner's arm. "But don't worry, Jake. Work with me here, and you'll get to enjoy this game." He took the needle and syringe from Nichols' hand, gave Mac an appreciative once over and looked back to his partner with a sardonic twinkle in his eyes. "I promise."

Mac felt a chill go down her spine when Clinton's gaze had roamed over her like a hungry lion with a piece of fresh meat. She glanced at Jake, but he wasn't looking at her, and his expression was surprisingly stoic and hard to read.

Meanwhile, the man who was now clearly in charge knelt down in front of Harm, placed the needle on the ground, and took out a small flashlight from his pocket. He tilted his captive's head back and then used his thumb to pull the upper eyelid on Harm's left eye, shining the light in the pupil. Done examining that eye, he moved to check out the other.

"So, does this game have teams?" asked Mac, trying to get Clinton to reveal as much as possible.

The man by Harm laughed. "And whose team would you like to be on, Sarah?"

"I don't think I have a choice, do I?"

"Answering a question with a question. You sound like my shrink."

'This nutcase _needs_ a shrink,' thought Mac. But she replied, "And what does your therapist say about you kidnapping and torturing people?"

"Oh, I don't see her anymore. I have too many control issues … that I have no intention of changing. And speaking of control, … to answer your question, for this game to work, I'm afraid that, by necessity, you do have to be on Commander Rabb's team."

He pivoted to face Mac. "Now, I realize that you are at a disadvantage, because, although he's awake, Rabb here is still under the influence of some major sedatives … and other things."

Mac's jaws clenched in anger. What had they done to Harm? She really wished her hands weren't tied right now.

"But I'm willing to play fair. That's actually what this is for." Clinton picked the needle up off of the floor and held it up. "This should help perk him up, get his brain functioning a little better."

"No!" Mac objected. "No more drugs," she pleaded getting to her feet.

He ignored her and looked to Jake. "Do me a favor, Jake. For the time being, we need her to be … not so mobile. Cuff her to the wall, too."

Jake looked from Clinton to Mac and then back. Finally he nodded, picked up a pair of handcuffs that had been in the corner, and moved towards Mac.

"Fine, chain me to the wall, but don't inject Harm," Mac tried to negotiate.

"You don't believe me, do you?" asked Clinton, referring to what was in the syringe, as Jake pulled Mac closer to where Harm was.

"Why should I?" she countered, while Jake, without untying her, cuffed her right wrist.

"Well, … it really doesn't matter, seeing as how you have no say in the matter." Clinton turned back to Harm and put the needle to his arm.

Before he was able to inject the dose, Mac acted, stepping to one side and kicking Jake's feet out from under him. He had just broken the bond on the tie that had kept her wrists together, so, although Nichols held onto her, taking her down with him, she was able to flip so that her hands were in front of her, and she quickly maneuvered herself on top of the lieutenant.

Before she had a chance to do anything further, a sound near Harm got her attention, and she looked up at Clinton to see that he had pulled a gun out and had it to Harm's head. She froze when she saw that, causing the man with the weapon to grin.

"Your choice, Sarah. A shot in his arm …" he indicated the needle now in his left hand, "… or a shot in his head," he indicated the gun.

Mac swallowed the lump in her throat. "You won't shoot him. You still want something from him." Nonetheless, out of caution for Harm's life, she did not move.

"Ah, perceptive. I don't want him dead just yet. … Maybe I should rephrase." He lowered the gun to Harm's groin area. "Injection in his arm of - what I promise will only wake him up some more - … _**or**_ I blow his balls off." Looking at Harm's confused, but panicked face, he asked, "What's your choice, Commander? You want me to use the gun?"

The fog in his brain kept Harm from processing the whole scenario, but he could feel the implements pressing against him and was able to understand the basic question given him. "… No," he weakly croaked out.

"I thought not." Clinton turned to his partner, who was still flat on his back, pinned down by Mac. "… Now, Jake, I told you that you would enjoy this game. You really think you would have gotten Sarah to straddle you so soon without it?"

Jake's expression was not nearly as pleased as Clinton seemed to have expected. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

"… Well, … be patient. Let's just call round one a draw. Sarah, if you would kindly dismount from Jake and let him cuff you over here, I'll make sure that Harmon remains bullet free … for the moment."

Reluctantly, Mac pulled off of Jake, allowing him to sit up and reinforce his hold on her wrist.

Clinton, meanwhile, reholstered his gun and proceeded to inject Harm with whatever substance he had in his syringe. "… You know, I'm beginning to see why Jake is so enamored by you," he told Mac in an off-hand way. "… Beauty, … brains, … and fighting abilities that are _very_ sexy."

Jake glared at his partner, which was something that did not go unnoticed by Mac.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she whispered to Nichols while he draped the second bracelet over a pipe and then cuffed Mac's other hand.

Once the cuffs were secure on her, Jake grabbed her arms near her shoulders and pushed her back to the wall. He stared intensely into her face for a very long moment, … eleven seconds by Mac's count, though it seemed much longer. Finally, he moved his hands to palm the sides of her head, pushing her hair back. He was not rough; it was almost a reverent move.

When the sort of trance that he was in suddenly broke, Nichols let her go, stepped back and turned to Clinton, who was just cleaning up his 'medical' supplies after Harm's injection.

"I don't like this," Jake told him. "I want to get her away from him! She needs to forget about Rabb."

"In due time," Clinton tried to assure him.

"No! This is stupid. You're going to torture him in front of her? … What is the point of provoking her like that?"

"I assure you, Jake, that I will not torture the Commander in her presence, … at least not physically. And it's not my intent to provoke her. Her response is … purely collateral."

"Why does she need to be here at all?" asked Nichols.

"Because," Mac interjected, finally understanding the master plan, "… he wants to use _me_ to provoke the Commander, … not the other way around."

Jake looked at her with confusion, and then turned to Clinton. "I don't understand," he said. "How would you get her to provoke him?"

"He reverses the situation," Mac said.

Clinton paused for a moment, and then stepped closer to Jake. "I tell you what. How about you and I go downstairs for a few minutes, and we'll talk about it … without input from the peanut gallery," he suggested, shooting a quick glare at Mac. "It will take a little bit for Mr. Rabb to come back to his senses, so we can't quite proceed just yet anyhow."

Since Jake immediately looked to Mac, Clinton added, "She's not going anywhere. … Neither of them are." He put his arm out to usher Jake downstairs. "She'll be fine."

Jake resisted for a moment, but, after a final look back at the captives, especially Mac, he relented and went with his partner. As the two descended the stairs, Mac could hear Jake say, "Rabb doesn't care about her like I do, and I don't want to see …" The rest was lost to her, and she quickly refocused on her neighbor.

"Harm! Can you hear me?" she asked quietly, but urgently.

His eyes had closed again, and he responded with only a grunt.

She slid herself as close to Harm as she could get, being cuffed to a different pipe than he was. "Harm, look at me!"

He did as he was told. "Mac, is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Seeing his pained expression, Mac decided, "Never mind, stupid question." Getting to business she asked, "Harm, what does this Clinton guy want from you?"

"What does he want?" he echoed.

"Yes, they said he wanted some information from you. What does he want to know?"

He shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"I can't tell you. You're probably not real. It's just a trick to get me to talk."

"It _**is**_ me, … Mac," she told him. "… But you're right, don't tell me the information he wants to know in case they're listening. Just tell me _what_ he wants to know."

Seeing Harm's very baffled expression, Mac quickly clarified, "I mean, tell me what question he is asking you. Not the answer."

"He asks lots of questions."

"Okay." Mac looked over at the monitors to see that Nichols and Clinton were downstairs involved in what seemed to be a disagreement. Maybe she should use this time to discuss other matters.

Harm wanted to change the topic anyhow. "Is it really you, Mac?"

"Yes. Would you really be seeing me if I wasn't here?"

"I … My brain makes me think you're here. Just like … I heard my Dad's voice in China when they drugged me. But he wasn't really there."

Not familiar with Harm's captivity in China, Mac's brows furrowed, as she tried to follow what he meant.

"But it kinda helped me through it. I guess it helps to hear people I love." He chuckled. "Besides, this isn't the first time I'm seeing you when you're not really there."

Mac couldn't resist asking, "You often see me when I'm not really there?"

"Mmm. After I hit my head. … In my dreams. … Some nightmares. … And apparently drug-induced hallucinations."

"I give you nightmares?" she reflexively responded. She did not like the idea that any of Harm's dreams about her could be classified as nightmares. It's usually thinking about people that you don't like that creates terrifying dreams.

"That happens when you're in love with a woman," said Harm, as if talking to himself. "You worry that something bad'll happen to her. Or that she'll be taken away from you. Or leave you."

Mac didn't know what to say to that. As far as she knew, Harm wasn't really in his right mind at the moment. But she still wanted to assure him, "… I'm not going to leave you."

Harm smiled softly. "Benefit of you being in my head."

"Harm, it really is me. How do I prove that to you? Can I tell you something only I would know?"

True, he was starting to feel a bit more coherent, but still, he knew he couldn't trust what he saw or heard just yet. He shook his head. "You can't prove it. That's the thing. Anything that only you and I would know … is in my head already. That doesn't prove that I'm not imagining you."

"Okay," she saw the logic in that. And the fact that Harm was thinking logically was a good sign. Although the pipe she was chained to was low, she got to her feet, allowing her to push her shoulder up close to the pipe and thus to maneuver her hands out as far as an arm-length away. She reached her bound hands out and touched Harm's fingers with her own.

He looked up at the contact. "My … my hands are kinda numb," he said.

She nodded, happy to at least have some physical connection with him. "They've been raised for awhile. The blood hasn't been getting to them very well. Can you get to your feet, like I've done? Or your knees at least? Maybe you can move your arms a little then and get the blood pumping back to your hands?"

It was a struggle, but Harm did manage to get to his knees, which brought his head up, closer to Mac. She dropped to her knees as well, since it was getting uncomfortable to be squatting on her feet.

"That's it," she told him. "Try to shake your hands out a little."

He complied and was focusing so much on getting feeling into his fingers that he jumped a little when Mac touched the side of his face with her hand.

"Sorry," she said, taking her hand away.

"No." He stopped her. "It just surprised me. It felt good though."

She smiled slightly and ran her fingers gently over his face. For a moment he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her, even over the sorest of spots.

Assessing those cuts, swellings, and bruises, Mac whispered, "What have they done to you?" asking more rhetorically than anything else.

Harm opened his eyes and stretched out his own arm. Mac had to bring her own hands back to allow him the room to reach out to her face. He placed a hand on her cheek and she automatically leaned into it.

"It is you," he determined.

"Yeah, it's me."

His relief was short-lived. "They kidnapped you, too?"

"No, I came after I was sent a note. It said they'd kill you if I didn't follow instructions."

"You shouldn't have come," he told her very seriously.

"How could I not?" she asked him, the love reflecting in her eyes. "Besides, you'd do the same for me, and there's no way Navy outdoes the Marines."

He knew there was no point in arguing with her. "Did the marine happen to bring back-up?"

"… Not exactly, but -"

**B A N G !**

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the building.

Mac's eyes flew to the monitors, and what she saw caused her to have to suppress a fresh wave of nausea. The blood was flowing quickly out onto the floor, and she knew that there was now, or within minutes would be, a dead body on the downstairs level.

She took just a second to compose herself. When she heard footsteps, signaling that they would not be alone much longer, she turned to Harm and pleaded, "Promise me that no matter what you see or hear, no matter what is done to me, … you won't break. You won't say anything that you shouldn't."

Mac knew that whatever information Harm had that he had withstood beatings and drugs to protect, whatever knowledge he had that was apparently worth murdering for, had to be important. She was not about to be used to weaken his resolve.

She suddenly considered that it might have been better to have let Harm continue to think that this version of her that was with him right now really did only exist in his head. It would have been easier to convince Harm to keep his mouth shut if he thought that the 'real her' was somewhere safe.

TBC ...


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Some answers will be revealed in this part!

Trinkets – Part 7

The steps creaked, and Clinton soon appeared in the room with them, putting his gun back in his holster. He stopped, took a cleansing breath, and then continued in the direction of his two prisoners. "I suppose you've realized that we now have one less guest at this party." Grimacing, he added lightly, "It's a good thing there are no neighbors around to complain about the noise level."

"He was your partner," Mac pointed out. "What kind of monster are you?"

Clinton sat down at the table and picked up one of the bottles of water that Nichols had put there earlier. "I'm not a monster. I just have to play by a certain set of rules. Jake wanted to break those rules."

He took a swig of the liquid that was not nearly as cold as he would have liked and put the bottle back down. "It is inconvenient though," he said, mildly disappointed. "… I really did want him to help with our game, and now … I'm going to have to play by myself against you two. Not to mention the mess that someone's going to have to clean up," he added, gesturing to the monitor that showed Jake's lifeless form strewn across an expanding pool of blood.

Harm spoke up this time. "I thought it was your job to clean up messes?"

After acknowledging Harm's observation with a laugh, Clinton corrected, "… Not literally."

"So, this is just another thing you'll leave for some 'hard-working American chumps' to worry about," responded Harm, shifting his position slightly. He was clearly referencing comments that Clinton had made previously.

"I assume that, in this case, you're referring to the police," said Clinton. "It is tempting to leave it for them to clean up. But, … I don't think that would be such a good idea. They have this nasty habit of examining every little thing and turning it into evidence.  
"Though, it's true that, considering how deserted this neighborhood is, they might only find the body years from now when some developer finally decides to bulldoze this place … But … I don't know … Maybe I just watch too much 'CSI' … and 'Cold Case.' Makes me a little paranoid, you know?"

"I'm sure it keeps you up at night," said Harm sarcastically.

Clinton laughed. "I can tell by your snappy comments that you're waking up," he observed of Harm. "I'm glad." He turned to Mac and whispered, "I told you the injection would help."

"What is it you want?" Mac asked him, wishing to know what this was all about.

"No, no, no," he scolded her. "That's not your part of the game. See," he put his hand to his chest, "_I_ ask the questions."

"And our part of the game?" she asked.

"Well, your partner gets to choose. He can answer my questions, in which case, you don't have to do anything, really," he told her.

"And if I don't," asked Harm, though he already suspected what the answer would be.

"If you don't, … then your partner, … Sarah, … well, … I may have to do something to her … that you probably won't like."

Harm shook his head. "No. She has nothing to do with this situation. Don't involve her!"

Clinton laughed. "See, … this is exactly why this game here is going to work. _This_ is what Jake just couldn't see for himself."

He turned his attention back to Mac. "That man downstairs really had it bad for you, you know. Which worked out really well for me, … at first. … I got information and extra help because he didn't like Harmon Rabb, here. He seemed to think that you are pining after the unworthy Commander."

"I'm not pining after anyone," Mac objected.

"Be that as it may, Jake showed me some tapes, and … you do look rather smitten with Mr. Rabb in some of them," Clinton practically teased her, before moving on. "So, Jake saw Harm as an obstacle, competition, … an enemy, even."

Before Mac could object further, Clinton continued, "But what _I_ realized after looking at some of the tapes, and then hearing my guest here talk," he gestured to Harm, "is that Harmon Rabb … is just as taken by you, if not more so. Jake just couldn't see it, because he couldn't imagine anyone else caring for you as much as he, himself, did."

Clinton looked back to Harm, although he continued to direct his words to Mac. "But _I_ could tell that Harm, here, is _keenly_ interested in you. Not only does he want you, … but, well, I daresay he's in love with you." Shifting his eyes back to Mac, he added, "At the very least, he cares for you deeply, and he won't be able to stand to see anything bad happen to you."

Harm's adrenaline was flowing now due to sheer anger at this man who dared to threaten Mac. His brain was not only waking up, but his neurons were on overdrive. How was he going to stop this? Clinton was right – he could withstand torture and drugs while keeping his mouth shut, … but he could not let Mac be hurt!

As Clinton looked between the two captives, one of those disgusting grins again formed on his face. "Look at that." He pointed to Harm. "It's in his eyes, Sarah. Harmon Rabb is finally scared. I couldn't get that from him before, but he's going to talk now."

"What is this even about?" asked Mac, refusing to look at Harm. If he was showing fear, seeing him scared and vulnerable was not going to help her own resolve any. "If I'm going to be tortured, … I think I at least deserve to know why."

"What do you think, Harm? Should we tell her? … Or leave her in the dark?"

There was silence for a long while, and Mac began to wonder if Harm had somehow gotten himself involved in something that he was ashamed of having been doing. She knew he would never be involved in bad things for the sake of doing bad things, … _**but**_ he was a risk-taker, and he bent rules when he believed it was for the greater good.

With Clinton staring at Harm, waiting for an answer, Mac's curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she finally looked over to her partner as well.

Sensing Mac's gaze, Harm was finally prompted to speak to his captor. "She doesn't know anything about this."

"I know. But it really can't hurt to tell her now, can it?" asked Clinton.

There was no response.

Surveying Harm, Clinton concluded, "You're still trying to protect her, aren't you? The less she knows, the more likely I'll let her go?"

Mac could tell from Harm's expression that Clinton was right about why Harm was keeping quiet. She was not happy about that, because she knew that, at this point, her safety did not depend on what she knew.

"Whatever is going on, he's not going to let either of us get out of this alive," Mac told Harm. "You know that. I've seen him, and that's reason enough to kill me. So, I might as well know what's going on, because, _no matter how this ends_, it doesn't help me not to know."

She hoped that she had made it clear to Harm that she was not at all giving up, just that Clinton letting her go was not a realistic option.

"She makes a decent point," Clinton agreed. Looking at Mac, he added, "You really are quite a good attorney aren't you?"

"She's an excellent attorney," said Harm. "But she's wrong this time."

Mac gave Harm a look of disbelief, but Harm sternly stared back at her and insisted, "She's going to get out of here alive, … or you get nothing from me."

"Are you actually saying that you are willing to talk now?" asked Clinton.

Harm directed his attention to the man. "If you let her go, … make sure your people know that she doesn't know a thing about who they are or what they're planning, … I'll tell you whatever you want. I'll take you there myself."

Clinton smiled. "That's good, Commander. But I'm afraid your logic doesn't hold up. Don't worry though, the drugs are still in your system, which is probably still clouding your mind a bit. See, … if I let Sarah go, … we're back to where we started."

"You have my word," Harm insisted.

"Not good enough. You'd lie to save her. Besides, do you really think that, if I released her, she would just go along her merry way? … No, she'd come back, she'd come after you, and regardless of … the condition in which she might find you, she'd come after me. No, she's right; she already knows too much. … The question is whether I kill her … or keep her, whether she's treated kindly … or …" Clinton walked up to Mac, pulled a knife out, and tenderly dragged it along the side of her face. "… not so much."

Harm had to bite his tongue when he had seen Mac nearly bang her head against the wall as she had reflexively jerked back away from the knife. With nowhere to go, she had tensed and stoically accepted the blade touching her skin. Harm knew that if he reacted, it would only encourage Clinton to continue.

To Mac's relief, after a moment, Clinton stepped back, leaving her skin intact.

"So, Colonel … That is your rank, yes?"

"Lieutenant Colonel," she reluctantly corrected.

"Ah. Jake always referred to you as a Colonel. Was that just part of his glorifying you in his mind?"

She took a short breath to relax herself. Talking was good, she reasoned, so she explained, "It's not uncommon to shorten the rank when referring to another officer unless it is a formal situation or the specific rank is relevant."

"I see. Well, then, since I'm not an officer, let me be formal. … _Lieutenant_ Colonel, … you said you wanted to know what all this is about?"

She glanced over at Harm, who was looking resigned to the fact their captor was going tell Mac. She turned back to Clinton. "Yes," she confirmed.

"Your colleague, Harm," Clinton explained to her, "had the unfortunate luck of … becoming friends with one of my acquaintances."

"He wasn't a friend," Harm corrected. "I don't make friends with that kind of filth."

"Oh, we don't need to resort to nasty descriptions," Clinton chastised him. "That doesn't help your image as an officer and gentleman. And what would the Bar Association have to say about you speaking about a client that way?"

"_Former_ client," said Harm.

"Yes," conceded Clinton, "… being _dead_ does make him a _former_ client." He turned to Mac and continued, "… Which brings us all to this current predicament. Since Munch, … my acquaintance, was only _formerly_ alive, I'm not able to ask him questions anymore. But, see, … I happen to know that before he died, … Munch had a conversation with … his attorney."

His eyes again rested on Harm. "Mr. Rabb seems to take this attorney-client privilege thing _very_ seriously though, because he won't say a word about their little discussion."

"What is it you want to know from what they talked about?" asked Mac, knowing that Harm's silence had nothing to do with the privilege rights of a dead man and everything to do with the information itself, whatever it might be.

"You know what?" Clinton decided, "I'm just going to sit down here for a bit and let the two of you talk. Harm can fill you in, and this might just be your opportunity to get him to tell me what I want to know. That would certainly save us all from a lot of pain and hassle.  
"Well," he amended, "it would save you two some pain and save _me_ a lot of hassle."

Clinton sat back down at the table, and for a good minute there was silence. Finally, he urged them, "I'll give you two more minutes. Then we start the game playing!"

Mac looked at Harm expectantly. He finally relented and told her, "I represented Petty Officer Chad Munkowitz, a.k.a. 'Munch,' about a year and a half ago. I was assigned to defend him on charges of armed robbery, but it didn't look good for him, so I advised him to take a plea bargain."

"Was I prosecuting?" asked Mac. The name did not seem familiar, but, with the amount of names in her caseloads over the years, she couldn't remember every person she was assigned to prosecute, especially the ones that did not go to trial.

"No. No, it was Mattoni, but this has nothing to do with the case. I was just unfortunate enough to be given some information by my client. I didn't realize the significance of that information at the time, but it's obviously very important to some people." Harm pointedly looked at Clinton, who just smirked back before downing some more water.

"What kind of information?" asked Mac.

"Petty Officer Munkowitz was part of a team of criminals involved in a lot more than taking money from people at gunpoint. … There is supposedly a … device of some sort that these criminals want to get their hands on. Munch had apparently stolen it … or somehow became its keeper. He hid it, and now his cohorts want to get their hands on it."

Mac looked over at Clinton, assessing his smug countenance regarding the whole situation. "The device … Will it hurt people?" she asked Harm.

He nodded his head, and, with that simple gesture, conveyed the gravity of the potential death and destruction.

"How did Munch die?" she asked.

"In the brig. Suicide."

"Yes, yes, yes," Clinton interrupted impatiently, standing up and walking towards them to become part of the discussion. "Munch was a coward who couldn't deal with living behind bars. But he didn't off himself until after he had requested a meeting with his attorney. He thought his mail might be monitored, so instead of writing the location of the device, he wrote about his lawyer, giving the hint to a friend of mine that he had revealed the location to none other…" He roughly placed his hand on Harm's shoulder, causing the injured man to wince. "… than Harmon Rabb, Junior."

He looked over at Mac. "So, now, if you don't mind, … please convince this … colleague, … friend, … lover? Whatever he is to you – convince him to tell me where the device is. Then, I won't have to cause you any pain. I won't have to cause him any _more_ pain." He shook Harm's shoulder, but this time, Harm was prepared and didn't reveal how much it hurt.

Mac surveyed the situation and determined the best course of action. "Give us a minute … alone," she requested that Clinton leave them.

"No."

"You want me to convince him? Give us some privacy," she insisted.

Clinton considered it. "You have until I get back with some more water."

When she was sure he was gone, Mac turned to her best friend, "Harm …"

"What do I do, Mac? I don't want him to touch you."

"I know," she said, but before she could continue, Harm started talking again.

"I would tell him. I would, but the destruction that can be caused by that device is beyond …" He let that hang, not sure how to describe the threat.

Mac used the opportunity to jump in, affirming, "I don't want you to tell him where it really is."

"Even if I could give him wrong intel, he'd come back when he figures that out and take it out on you."

"But, we're going to get out of here, Harm. … And don't worry about me."

"I can't let anything happen to you."

"Harm, I am a United States marine. Not an innocent civilian. I signed up to protect our country, just like you did."

"You're not just a marine to me!" he whispered fiercely. "I love you."

Her heart melted just a little more at hearing that, but their time was limited so she had to stick to business. "Then tell him something untrue to buy us some more time."

"… I … don't know if I can." His eyes had turned to the ground.

"Why not?"

"The stuff he injects me with …"

"… Some sort of truth serum?"

Harm nodded. "I can force myself to stay quiet, but when I talk, … it's hard to make things up. … My brain is …"

"It's okay, Harm. Then just stay quiet, and pay attention, because I might need your help to get us out of here."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of. It will depend on whether …"

"Alright, time's up!" said Clinton, who had come back into the room. "And I get the impression you weren't really trying to talk him into cooperating, were you?"

Mac knew they had been caught, so there was no point in denying it. "He's not going to talk."

"At your instruction."

"With my agreement," she corrected. "I don't want innocent lives lost on my account."

"Aren't you an innocent life?"

"I'm a marine. I signed up to risk my life to protect this country and its citizens."

"How very patriotic of you. But who says the device is going to be used against U.S. citizens?"

She paused for a moment, and then resolutely stated, "It doesn't matter. It will kill people, and it shouldn't be found because it shouldn't be used."

"Interesting attitude coming from someone in the military, given that you are trained to kill."

"We're trained to defend," Harm cut in.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Clinton asked him.

Harm forced himself to remain quiet. Of course he had. Directly and indirectly, but that was a can of worms he knew better than to open. Despite the drugs making it difficult to censor himself, he did manage to stay silent.

Clinton abruptly switched to look at Mac. "How about you, _Lieutenant_ Colonel? You ever killed anyone?" Without giving her the opportunity to respond, he answered for her, "Never mind, I know you have. You killed someone today."

TBC ...

A/N: Thanks for the feedback. I hope people are staying intrigued by this story.


	8. Chapter 8

Trinkets - Part 8

"I think you're getting us confused, Clinton. _You_ killed someone today, not me."

"Well, I admit I had something to do with it, but really, it's your fault he's dead. And I'm thinking that it's going to be you that the police blame."

"You're insane," said Mac incredulously.

"Maybe. But we've delayed our game too long. So, Harm, … I'm going to ask you some questions, and what your answers are will determine if your lovely friend here will have to take part this round … or if she can safely sit this one out."

"Don't answer him, Harm."

Ignoring her, Clinton continued, "Let's start with something easy. What is your relationship with Sarah?"

Harm's brows furrowed briefly, as he did not expect that question. "… We work together."

"And?"

"And we're friends."

"And?"

"And what?" asked Harm.

"Are you lovers?"

It was Mac who answered. "That's none of your business."

"It _is_ my business," said Clinton. "Because I have the gun."

"What is the point of these questions?" asked Mac. "You have some odd obsession with knowing if people are romantically involved? Are things so bad in your personal life that you have to get your satisfaction from hearing about others?"

"_You_ aren't asking the questions, Sarah," snapped Clinton, appearing more irked than ever. "Do I have to remind you of the rules?"

"No," Harm answered for her. "She'll stay quiet. Just leave her alone."

"Then answer the question. Are you lovers?"

"No," Harm answered.

"Hmm. Have you ever been?"

Harm shook his head. "… No."

"But you want to be?" Clinton asked Harm.

Mac was about to object again, but Harm silenced her with a stern look. Then he answered, "… Maybe."

"Maybe?" repeated Clinton with disbelief. "Why only 'maybe?'"

Mac couldn't help but be a bit curious herself regarding that question, and she looked over to study Harm. His demeanor was that of extreme fatigue, but there was a sense of sincerity about him.

Staring at the floor, he slowly replied, "Only 'maybe,' because … I don't want to hurt her. … I don't want to _be_ hurt. I don't want …" He transferred his gaze to Mac, as he finished, "…to lose her."

"You don't want to lose her?" parroted Clinton, not understanding. "If you're not a couple, then how is it that you _have_ her?"

Harm looked Clinton in the eye. "… She's my friend. … My _best_ friend."

"You _are_ in love her, aren't you?" Clinton reflected. "You care more about spending time with her, and her being happy, than you do about sleeping with her."

Harm didn't respond, which was enough of an answer for the game's 'moderator.'

"Quite admirable. … Well, Harm. We're off to a good start. So, … as a reward … I'm going to ask Sarah to do something that you _will_ like."

He turned to Mac. "Sarah, … dear, I think that Harm deserves a nice, _big_ kiss for that, don't you?"

Mac wasn't sure how to feel about this. Kissing Harm was, of course, not a bad thing, but … to be forced to … while being watched by an evil manipulator wasn't exactly … romantic … or even comfortable. Nonetheless, … no point in wasting her energy on fighting or refusing something that wasn't all that objectionable. Besides, … if things didn't work out and either she or Harm didn't make it out of here alive … wouldn't it be nice to have one last kiss?

"Unchain me?" she asked of Clinton.

"No, not yet. I know you scoot yourself over to Harm, because you did it earlier. That ought to be close enough to perform the task."

'The task,' thought Harm. This wasn't right. Of course, he wanted Mac to kiss him, but not like this. Not under duress, not because some sick-o ordered it. And, frankly, he'd like to be in better condition to appreciate any affection he might get from this woman.

Mac got to her feet so that she was squatting again and, sliding her cuffs along the pipe that she was chained to, managed to sidle up next to Harm. She again dropped to her knees when she got close to him.

Harm sensed her apprehension. "You don't have to do this, Mac."

"Oh, but she does," Clinton disagreed, brandishing his gun. "Or there will be consequences."

"It's okay, Harm," Mac assured him.

"Good," concluded Clinton. "There really should be no objections to this request, and if you do this, Sarah, I think we can all declare ourselves winners of this round."

"Fine," Mac responded looking challengingly at their captor before swiftly turning her head and giving Harm a quick, but strong kiss on the lips. It was over in the blink of an eye.

"Come now, Sarah," Clinton scoffed. "You can do better than that. After all, this could very well be your last opportunity to bestow him such a gift. … I want to see some passion."

"_You_ want to see passion?" Mac questioned before concluding, "You really are some kind of deranged voyeur."

Clinton shook his head. "If it was about me, it wouldn't be _him_ you'd be kissing. No, I honestly _want_ him to enjoy this."

Both Harm and Mac were justifiably confused, more so when, after a beat, Clinton added, "You know what? – Here, I'll even give you …" He reached in his pocket and started fishing for something. "… some gum. I'm sure all this dry air and such can make the breath a bit less than pleasant, and we don't want that to get in the way of anything."

He finally managed to pull out the small packet, but he frowned. "I've only got one stick left." He looked up at the two of them. "You'll have to split it."

Clinton came over and popped half a stick into each of their mouths, which they accepted, though shooting him glares about this whole situation.

"See, I'm not a monster. I want you both to enjoy this."

Although Mac did not understand his motivation just yet, she did realize that Clinton was not joking. For some reason he wanted Harm to have a moment of 'enjoyment.' She suddenly had a thought. "You know, it _is_ dry here. If you want Harm to take pleasure in anything, you should probably get him some water." She asked Harm, "When is the last time you were given anything to drink?"

"… I haven't gotten any here that I can remember." He looked up at Clinton, half pleading, "But water would be really nice. I don't even have enough saliva to really chew this gum."

Clinton eyed them suspiciously, but decided that it was a reasonable request. "Alright."

As the captor turned to the table behind him to pick up a bottle of water, Mac quickly mouthed some words to Harm.

She could tell that he didn't quite understand, but she hoped that he at least made out the words that she was trying to indicate so that he could put the pieces together momentarily.

Clinton was already back, so no more communication could be made. Harm received a gracious amount of liquid, which he eagerly drank up.

While he was doing that, Mac addressed Clinton. "There's still one problem keeping me from giving him a good, _passionate_ kiss."

"What now?"

"Our hands," she said, pulling on her wrist restraints. "It's not really comfortable to bend my head too far forward between my arms for more than half a second. And I can't slide closer without running into where his hands are cuffed."

"I'm not uncuffing you."

"Well, then uncuff him," she suggested, indicating Harm. "His hands are practically numb anyhow, and I don't think he's in much shape to get up and fight you. Let him be free to move his hands out of the way."

"And _onto_ you?" Clinton asked lasciviously.

"… If he wants." Mac couldn't believe she was having this conversation, but it was necessary. "You did say you want him to enjoy this."

"… Okay, … but only for the kiss. Then it's back like he is."

Mac nodded in acknowledgment, while Harm began to understand the message she had given him a moment before.

Soon his wrists were finally free of the silver bracelets that had been digging into his skin. He shook out his hands to try to get some feeling back into them. He was technically free, but Mac was right; he wasn't in any condition to take on Clinton, especially since the man was armed. And he wouldn't even think of trying to make a run for it, even if he believed he could make it out, because there was no way he was leaving Mac.

"Okay, … let's have some lip action now!" exclaimed Clinton, who grabbed a chair from behind him, swung it around and straddled it, sitting on it backwards, while facing the two 'lovebirds.'

"You really are sick," Harm commented.

"Maybe. Maybe not. … Regardless, this may be the last time you two have the opportunity to share a kiss. Make it count."

Mac sighed and then looked at Harm. He looked apologetic, which actually made her want to kiss him more. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking, 'Are you ready for this?'

He gave her a small nod.

This was awkward, without a doubt. Mac began things tentatively, stretching her neck to lightly put her lips to his, waiting for Harm, as the more mobile one, to come closer to her. It didn't take long for Harm to scoot on his knees so he was right up against her, and his arms immediately went around her.

Mac responded by sliding her cuffs as far along the pipe above her as she could, pushing Harm back so he was sitting on his heels, as she straddled his thighs. His right hand went to her derriere, pulling her closer still, while his left hand roamed over her back.

Mac would have liked her hands to be free, but she certainly kept her mouth busy. Among other things, she pushed her half of the gum into Harm's mouth. She really, really wished the circumstances of this kiss were different. Regardless, she was losing herself in the experience … in Harm.

For his part, Harm did not even register the pain from moving his battered face against her beautiful one. At the moment, his arms, sore from torture, didn't protest a bit at the movement.

Eventually, their mouths did part from each other, and they shared a look of amazement as they both caught their breaths.

Harm was especially overwhelmed. That had been far more intense than he had expected! Why couldn't this kiss have been more than a damn show! Someday he would like to kiss her like that, - kiss her at all, without any odd circumstances …

"Now _that's_ what I was talking about," Clinton interrupted their moment. "I don't think I need to ask if you enjoyed that, Commander."

Both Harm and Mac cast their eyes downward, feeling embarrassed, among a heck of a lot of other things.

"Seeing that would have killed Nichols." Clinton followed up that comment, joking, "Guess it's good he's already dead." He stood and moved the chair that he was sitting on out of the way.

"Sarah, if you could please back away from your friend now …" he 'suggested.' When she complied, Clinton approached them. "You know, Harm, I think you even got some of your color back," he observed as he put the handcuffs back on his prisoner.

"Would you like some more water?" He was being nice to Harm in an eerie manner. But Harm would be a fool not to take advantage of the offer. He was parched.

TBC …


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning:** This is a rougher chapter than previous, with some violence, infliction of pain, an instance of minor coarse name-calling (a word acceptable for a lot of regular tv these days though), and an increasingly sick, twisted, evil mind of the villain. It's still within the boundaries of what is appropriate for the T rating, I think, but enough to justify this warning.

/ / /

Trinkets - Part 9

After Harm had finished off the bottle, Clinton took it away from him and asked, "You know what I want from you now, don't you?"

In a manner that sounded more casual than he felt, Harm said, "You want me to tell you everything I know."

"Something like that, yes. So, let's get to business. Did … my acquaintance, Mr. Munkowitz, talk to you about the device?"

Harm provided no answer.

"Never mind, I know Munch did; so, let's just skip to you telling me what he said."

Closing his eyes, Harm tried to block out Clinton's request.

The interrogator was not to be deterred. He switched gears slightly. "Do you know why I had her kiss you like that?"

Harm opened his eyes and then shook his head.

"How about you, Sarah? Do you know why I wanted him to have such a moment of pleasure?"

She paused for a moment, and then ventured, "Your version of 'good cop, bad cop?' Only you have to take turns to play both roles … and, of course, you're no cop."

"True, I'm no cop. And I was originally planning on having Jake to work with, so I'm having to improvise here."

He turned back to Harm. "I never really figured that being nice to you would make you talk, so that's not the reason, but I figure it would be rather rude of me to go straight into more painful things without at least giving you a _chance_ to answer just now."

A chill ran through Mac when Clinton mentioned 'painful things.' It did not really matter if the torture was to be aimed at her or at Harm, because she would suffer either way.

"No," Clinton went on to explain, "I had her kiss you, because I want you to think of her, the woman that you have such … an affinity for. I want you to remember the feel of her against you and that connection that you just shared. And I want you to know the potential of what you could have had from her, … so that when she is no longer capable of being with you, … all that you missed out on will be burned onto every one of your senses."

Harm's jaw clenched. He didn't like the sound of where this was going at all.

The tormentor continued, "There's something else I want you to keep in mind while I am … directing my attention to Sarah." Without any other warning, Clinton picked up the nearby chair by its back and swung the base of it with might at Harm's head, hitting him squarely on his shoulder and the side of his face.

Mac gasped with horror as at least one leg of the chair broke in two on impact. She could only imagine the damage done to Harm!

After tossing the now ruined seat back to the floor behind him, Clinton stepped close to Harm and leaned over his prisoner's freshly bleeding face. "Just wanted to remind you of the pain and injury that I'm capable of inflicting."

He stood up straight, and, with an eerie calmness, as if no violence had just occurred, he politely demanded, "Now, one more time … Please tell me what Munch told you. Hmm? What did he say about the device? … Answer me, or I move on to Sarah."

"Don't worry about me, Harm," Mac spoke up. With a significant look at her partner, she told him, "You know what you have to do."

Clinton noticed, and did not appreciate, the nonverbal communication that had just passed between these two 'friends.' Even with the new swelling developing to the side of Harm's left eye, there was no denying the light of understanding that reflected in his blue orbs, signaling that the 'message had been received.'

"What does he have to do?" Clinton inquired of Mac.

"Keep his mouth shut … for the time being," she answered.

"Well, in that case, I guess it's time I dealt with you," Clinton told her. He briefly turned back to Harm, stating, "She's lucky, in a way, that I'm clever enough to realize that she can take care of something for me. That delays any _physical_ torture, … although I imagine that if she manages to live beyond today, what I'm about to have her do will scar her emotionally and haunt her every day and night for the rest of her life."

Again, Mac was momentarily overcome by fear, as her mind could not even fathom what evil this mad man had planned. But the marine in her overrode that feeling of fright and focused on the facts of the situation.

Clinton meandered over to his bag in the corner, and, as he rustled inside of it for something, he told Mac, "See, there's a man downstairs …" He pointed to the monitors, indicating the prone form on the floor below them. "… who needs some attention."

He pulled out some sort of small electrical device with straps, and continued, "It's only appropriate that you tend to him."

Walking back to Mac, he stated, "After all, … Jake loved you, and you rejected him. He died trying to protect you. When he realized, with your not-so-subtle help, that my intention was to use you to get under Harm's skin, … Jake just wouldn't have any of it. He didn't want you to be hurt or to have anything forced on you."

After a theatrical sigh, Clinton added, "It's really a pity that he couldn't see the bigger picture, because there are things that could have been done to break the Commander, … that Jake could have _really_ enjoyed. For instance, …" he said, looking over to Harm, "… I might have started things off by having Sarah kiss Jake like I had her kiss you just now. … The difference with kissing him, of course, would have been that Jake would have been in better condition to have his free hands roam … _all over_ her."

"She wouldn't have kissed him like that," Harm objected without really thinking.

"Oh, she would have with proper motivation. Yes, it's really a shame that Jake was not willing to play along, because, if he did, he could've at least gotten one smokin' hot kiss from the woman he loved … instead of dying to protect her."

Mac could feel Clinton's eyes burning through her with the accusation that it was her fault that Jake Nichols was dead.

Suddenly inspired with an idea, Clinton told her, "… Actually, I may have you kiss him yet! After you look into his lifeless eyes, you can put your sweet, warm lips on the cold remains of his mouth. You can feel his unnaturally cool skin and his stiff muscles as the rigor sets into his every body part."

He knelt down and was so close to Mac now that she could feel his breath against her face.

"And then, you'll work on cleaning up all that blood that poured out of him. That blood that pumped through his heart, … as it beat for you. That blood that filled another part of his body whenever he thought about you … out of uniform. And believe me, he was having dreams of your naked flesh quite often."

Mac closed her eyes trying to rid herself of the complex feelings of disgust and even guilt running through her.

"Meanwhile, Commander …" Clinton, satisfied that he had affected Mac, switched his focus to Harm. "You can think about sharing what Munch told you while you watch on the monitors as Sarah cleans up and gets ready to dispose of the body." With a sneer, he added, "If you cooperate, I won't make her dispose of your body."

"Does that mean you won't kill me?" asked Harm.

"Who knows?" he answered with a shrug. "Regardless, when we come back, maybe you'll be more inclined to talk. Or else, I'll have to move on to the next round of things."

Staring at Sarah, Clinton took a contemplative deep breath, and mused, "Just need to decide if I want to go straight to some form of beating … or cutting … or if I want to get to physically know her better, while she's still in … mint condition."

"You bastard!" Harm had had enough. "You won't touch her!"

He was rewarded only with a malevolent laugh from his captor, who then added, "Fortunately for both you and her, … you do have the power to stop this … at any time. You just have to tell me what I want to know. … I'll let you contemplate that while we're downstairs."

Clinton pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

"I'm going to dial my phone number from this phone, and I'm going to leave this one on speaker with you, … so anytime you want to talk …"

Mac looked at Harm and deliberately shook her head.

Clinton noted the exchange and put the phone on the table. "But first, I want to show you this gadget, Harm." He was referring to the device with the straps that he had taken out of his bag. "It's my own design. Kind of like a taser. It shoots electricity through someone. Here, let me demonstrate."

He approached Harm, put the device to his back and sent a zap through him. Harm's body shook with the jolt. In his already severely weakened state, he certainly felt as if his body had surrendered its fight, that the convulsions coursing through him would lead to an imminent death.

"Stop it!" Mac pleaded.

"Don't worry," Clinton assured her, holding the device up to show her it was no longer pressed against Harm. "It was set on low, so he'll be fine. Besides, I have no intention of using it on him again. I'm done demonstrating."

He took a step closer to her. "See, this gadget is for you, Sarah. To make sure you behave when I uncuff you to join me downstairs. I need you to be free to tend to the mess down there, but I can't risk you trying to overpower me or trying to make a run for it. … The straps," he indicated by holding them, "allow me to attach this device to your back … where you can't easily get rid of it. I have a remote that will let me zap you if you try any heroics or don't do what I ask."

He began strapping it onto her. It was a complicated system, designed so that it could not easily be cut off or slipped out of. As he rigged it up, Clinton explained, "Now, Harm, I want you to remember that it was on low power when I zapped you just now, but I've just upped this to medium power. That, combined with the fact that Sarah is smaller than you are, means that any shock she experiences is going to be _so much worse_ than what you just felt."

As he finished up tightening the straps on Mac, Clinton added, "And, _Lieutenant_ Colonel, in case you decide you want to risk it, I just want you to know that if you do anything to make me zap you just once, I will change the setting on this thing to high power for any future transgressions. … Assuming you survive an initial jolt, of course." He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I'm sure it's safer to just do what I ask."

He reached for the cell phone that he had left on the table, dialed, and placed it back down again, leaving it open and on speaker. A phone in his pocket buzzed and he answered it. "Hello …" his voice echoed through the phone on the table.

He proceeded to plug the phone he held with something, the end of which wire he ran up to his ear. He clipped the phone to his belt so that his hands were now free.

"Ain't all this technology grand?" Those words again reverbed through the other phone on speaker.

Clinton reached into a different pocket for a key and released Mac from her cuffs.

She rubbed her sore wrists and glared at the malevolent man who held the threatening remote that could cause her to be electrocuted.

"After you …" Clinton waved his hand towards the stairs. Following Mac to the staircase, he looked back over his shoulder at Harm. "Any time you want to talk …" he left the sentence hang, the meaning obvious.

When Mac and Clinton were completely out of sight, Harm uncurled two of his fingers, revealing a tiny, plastic item. The left side of his mouth, though covered with blood since being hit, curled up in a small smile. Mac was a genius!

/ / / /

A/N: My apologies to Harm, for the brutal treatment, but take heart in remembering that this is only fiction. I needed to show the truly horrid nature of Clinton and what he's capable of. It's not easy creating someone so sick and vicious!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I was going through some old documents and realized that I had more parts to this story written that I never posted on this site. Mind you, the story's still not finished, I haven't worked on it in ages, and don't know when I'll get to writing more. But since people still read it, I think you deserve all that I have written (up to 16 parts, which will probably leave you slightly more satisfied than where this has been left for so long).

Trinkets - Part 10

Harm had known that Mac had taken advantage of their 'ordered' kiss to further some sort of escape plan, but until now, he hadn't known the exact logistical significance of what had transpired. When Clinton had turned to get the requested water from the table after the short, first attempt at a kiss while both prisoners were handcuffed, Mac had mouthed words to Harm.

At first, he had been confused, because it looked like her lips had formed the words, 'back pocket,' while she tilted her head to indicate her left side. This hadn't made much sense to him until she convinced Clinton to uncuff Harm, ostensibly to make access to kissing each other better.

Then Harm had understood that she wanted him to reach in and get something from her back, left pocket. It wouldn't be easy with Clinton watching their every move, but Sarah had used a plan to deal with that. Her over-the-top demonstration of what she could do with her mouth during a kiss was clearly a diversion. Her straddling him was certainly to allow him access to her rear pocket.

Harm had done his part by rubbing his left hand against her back to add to the distraction while his right hand slipped into her back pocket under the guise of pulling her closer to him … and, of course, cupping her normally forbidden behind.

With Mac's mind-numbing kiss, especially in addition to the drugs already keeping him less than totally lucid, it had been damned lucky that he was able to keep his senses about him enough to grab what was in her pocket! But, he was certainly glad now that he had been able to retrieve the small, plastic key.

Now if his head would just stop pounding! That blow that Clinton had given him with the chair had done some serious damage, but Harm forced himself to concentrate. Mac's well-being was at stake. At least his muscles seemed to have recovered from the jolt of electricity, so his movements were fairly steady, as good as he could expect under the circumstances.

Putting his mouth to his hand, he clenched the back of the key between his teeth and then tilted his head to insert the end into the keyhole of his cuffs. After a few seconds of jiggling and twisting the small object, Harm was rewarded with a click as the cuffs unlocked and opened.

But now what? If Harm went downstairs, his footsteps would give Clinton too much warning, and, not only would that make any chance to gain the upper hand futile, but it would put Mac at extra risk as Clinton was likely to retaliate by zapping her with that deadly electric device strapped to her back.

Harm's eyes flitted to the nearby window. There was a board covering it, but he had felt air coming from that area earlier, so he knew it was not well secured. Should he make an attempt at escape and try to go for help?

No, even if he were in top shape, the odds of getting out without alerting Clinton were low, and the area was largely deserted, so getting help of any kind was not likely. Besides, Harm could not leave Mac behind with this lunatic for even a little while.

He looked at the monitors. Clinton had forced Mac onto her knees beside the body. But Harm had to ignore the orders that the mad man was giving Mac. He focused on that remote in Clinton's hand. Any brash action would cause Clinton to push that button. There was no way around it. First and foremost, Harm would **need** to get that remote out of the psycho's hand to ensure Mac's safety.

After a moment, Harm figured that his best bet was the element of surprise. And since there was no way to drop onto the guy without warning, this meant getting Clinton to come back up to the second story. That ought to be easy enough with the phone that was left on-line and in speaker mode. Just announcing that he is ready to talk at the right moment should get Clinton's attention. The trick would be to have Clinton think that Harm was still cuffed, so that he would get close to Harm before realizing that anything was amiss.

That would be Harm's only chance of wrestling the remote away. Hopefully, once he got the remote, Mac would be free to help take Clinton down. Harm knew that, in his current state, he was no match for the other man once the initial surprise attack ended. He would need help, but he wasn't capable of thinking that far ahead anyhow. He was using all of his willpower to keep himself thinking clearly enough to figure out the very next step.

Harm looked at his wrists and the now-open cuffs in his hands. There was no way to get the cuffs to stay in place on him, as they had been, hanging over the pipe, except to click them closed, which would defeat the whole purpose of having freed himself. If he just had something to keep them temporarily and loosely around his wrists so he could quickly break free at the opportune moment …

He scanned the room for something to use. Tape maybe? He caught view of Clinton's bag in the corner. Who knows what else the guy had in there? Surely, something in there ought to do. But Harm couldn't risk the movement. If he walked over to the bag, the floor would creak and alert their captor.

He briefly wished that Mac had been able to provide him with more than just that plastic key to work with. Then it dawned on him! She had! Well, Clinton had, but Mac had left Harm with her half when she had pushed her gum into his mouth during their kiss.

With all of the gum, he could divide it again and use it on the handcuffs, sticking a bit between each bracelet clasp. Hopefully, the handcuffs would stay together long enough to fool Clinton into believing that Harm was still immobile.

Harm didn't know if Mac had purposefully given him her gum as a 'tool' for escape when she had pushed her piece into his mouth during their kiss, but he was very grateful that she had done so.

TBC ...


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: **Warning **- This is one of those parts that some readers might find upsetting due to the disturbing nature of the villain's possible plans. I don't think it warrants a change in the story rating, especially since there's nothing explicit and not all the planned actions happen. Nonetheless, I think it warrants this note for readers to use their own discretion.

Trinkets - Part 11

It was not the first time in her life that Sarah MacKenzie was in a situation so horrible that she had to shut off some of her basic emotions and operate in a sort of mechanical mode. That had been going on since she was a child listening to her drunken father beating her mother.

It was not the first time she was up close and personal with death, … looking at a dead or dying man with a voice telling her that, in some way, it was her fault that he was dead. There had been more times than she wished to count that she had been in that situation. Eddy, Dalton, Chris …

This time, though, the voice saying that she was responsible was not just inside her. Clinton stood over her, forcing her to stare into the unmoving eyes of Jake Nichols, a man who 'loved' her.

"How does it feel, Lieutenant Colonel? Hmm?" the villain goaded her. "To be face to face with a corpse? A man who is dead because of _you_. Because he cared for you, … but you dismissed him. He died because, … even after you mistreated him, … he wanted to protect you."

Mac did not respond. She felt a wave of heat flash over her though. If she hadn't already been on her knees, she may well have passed out. There was so much blood … because of her. Blood that now literally covered her since Clinton had shoved her down next to the body and into the crimson pool that had emanated from it.

She closed her eyes, wanting to block everything out.

"No, no! Don't you close your eyes!" her captor scolded. "… You can't ignore Jake Nichols anymore. … I think you owe the man a pleasant goodbye. … I'm thinking that the goodbye kiss is indeed in order, … so he can go out happy."

"He's already gone," she objected, looking up at Clinton.

"Well, … yes, it does appear that way. But are you spiritual, Sarah?"

She remained quiet.

"Answer me …" he teased, drawing out the words and holding up the remote to remind her of the consequences if she did not cooperate.

She took in a deep breath. "… I'd like to believe in a higher power. But there are days when I have my doubts."

"Like today?"

"Today, I hope more than ever, that there is a God and an afterlife, … so that if you don't get justice in this life, you sure as Hell will get it in the next."

Clinton laughed. "'Sure as Hell.' …. That's funny, since I think you meant that's where I'll be."

He paused for a moment and then more seriously declared, "I don't believe that I'll ever be judged, … in this life or any other. But I do have a fascination with the supernatural and the possibility of a … nonreligious afterlife of sorts. Maybe something that only lasts a day or maybe even just a few hours. So, sometimes I like to do something nice for the body of someone who is … freshly deceased."

Mac coughed out a humorless laugh at his phrasing. "You mean after you've killed them?"

"It's just business. I told you, I'm not a monster. So, yes, I will do something nice … in case their spirit is lingering. Maybe they can still feel things after they seem dead to us."

Clinton looked steadily at Mac and touched her face. She immediately turned her head away, out of his reach, but he took a step towards her, while saying, "A pretty woman, such as yourself …"

He reached again for her face, and this time turning her head could not avoid the contact. He caressed her, and told her, "Sometimes I put a flower in her hair. … I might put a flower in your hair." He raked his fingers through her tresses.

"Don't," Mac objected, automatically pushing his hands away, smearing him with Jake's blood in the process. Looking Clinton in the eye, she firmly stated, "If you kill me … and my spirit sticks around, … I won't want you to touch my body anymore."

Seeming a bit disappointed, Clinton grunted. He then took a step back and with renewed energy told her, "_You_ might want to be left alone, but Jakey, here, really wanted you to touch him … and kiss him … and make love to him. So, I'm thinking that since he died for you and all, … you at least owe him that kiss. I think that would make his spirit happy."

As Mac looked over Jake's limp form and pale face she definitely felt sick. "I think his spirit is long gone."

"Well, … humor me." Again, Clinton held up the remote as a reminder that she should do as she was told. "And I've seen what kind of kissing you're capable of, … so this has to be more than a peck."

"He's dead," Mac reiterated.

"As a doorknob," Clinton agreed, not seeing her point.

"Anything more than a peck would require … participation which he can't offer."

That caused a chuckle. "Oh, you're creative. You'll make it work. Just use that tongue of yours …"

"You're sick."

"But, I'm in charge." He suddenly grabbed Mac by the hair and yanked her head in the direction of the dead man's face. He roughly let her go, causing her to fling forward, her arms landing on top of Jake's chest.

"Now, kiss him," Clinton ordered. "Before I decide to have you pay attention to another part of his anatomy."

Mac quizzically glanced up at Clinton.

He smiled evilly and stated, "Post death priapism. … It could be an interesting scenario."

A whole new level of disgust that she didn't think was possible befell Mac.

"Now kiss him!"

Mac did not move. How could she possibly do what was being asked of her?

"Do it! Or there will be consequences!"

Her eyes focused on the remote.

"That's right, one way or another, I want to see some electricity."

Mac took a deep breath and tried to cleanse her mind. Maybe she could just pretend that she was about to kiss a living being …

She reluctantly began to lower her head, willing herself, numbing herself, to complete the action …

"Oh, wait. What was that, Harmon?"

Mac froze at the sound of Clinton's voice speaking to Harm on the phone. Maybe she had just gotten a reprieve.

(- -)

"Stop. Don't make her do that," begged Harm, though Mac couldn't hear his side of the conversation.

He was now directing one hundred percent of his attention to the monitors that displayed the activities downstairs, and he did not like what he was witnessing.

"Are you ready to talk?" Clinton's voice came over the speaker phone near Harm.

"… Yes."

"Alright. So, talk. Where is the device?"

"… Come up here, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"No. No more delay tactics, Harmon. Speak now … or Sarah becomes intimate with the corpse."

"Fine, I'll talk now," Harm hurried to assure him. "… But I need to draw something … for you to understand," he added, hoping to give Clinton a reason to come upstairs.

"Tell me something worthwhile first. Then, I'll let you draw whatever."

"It's kind of hard to … explain. I need to make you a … map."

Clinton paused and then looked at Mac who was staring at him, trying to figure out what Harm was saying and hoping that it would redirect Clinton's attention so that she could get away from Nichols' body.

Her captor shook his head and explained to her, "Your boyfriend is stalling. Since he's not actually talking … you need to go ahead with that kiss."

She didn't move.

"Now!" he ordered, holding up the remote and hovering his thumb over the button that would cause her to receive a significant electric shock.

She slowly started to lean down again.

"A house in Williamsburg!" Harm blurted out.

"What?"

Mac paused, but quickly received a disapproving look from Clinton, who gestured for her to continue.

Harm quickly spat out, "The device is in a hiding place at a house in Williamsburg. Now stop her!"

"Hold up, Sarah," Clinton said, just in time to prevent her lips from meeting the dead man's. "What house, Harm? You have to give me more than a city, and do it quickly, because I won't stop her again."

"The home of a childhood friend of Munkowitz's. … Uh, Ben Osbourne, I think," he rattled off as quickly as he could remember it.

"What's the address?"

"I don't know; he didn't say." He hurriedly added, "But Ben's mother still lives there, and it's within walking distance of the William & Mary campus. She works there. … I'm sure we could look her up."

"And the hiding place?" asked Clinton, grabbing Mac by the hair again and turning her towards one of the cameras to remind Harm that Mac was still at his mercy.

"That's … that's what I have to draw."

"The yard? The house? What room?" asked Clinton impatiently. "Come on, Commander, you can tell me more without drawing a picture. You're on a roll, … and you don't really want to watch me get creative with Sarah, do you? Having her kiss the dead guy would just be … foreplay, really."

Harm inwardly cursed. "It's … in the spare bedroom … in, um, the bottom of a piece of furniture."

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Clinton said gently, releasing Mac. "Unless you're lying to me. And if you are lying to me, Harmon, then you will be sorry. Do you understand? The way I've treated you so far will seem like a day at the park compared to what I am capable of doing to make your very existence, … not to mention Sarah's, … be that of _sheer_ pain."

"I'm not lying," Harm said quietly, and in a tone filled with remorse, given the dangerous information that he had just revealed to this lunatic.

Clinton paused to think for a moment. "Thank you, Commander," he told Harm and then disconnected the phone.

Since Mac was unable to hear Harm's side of the conversation, other than making out the urgency in his voice from time to time, she was not sure just what Harm had said that seemed to pacify Clinton. Obviously, he had revealed something specific. She only hoped that Harm was able to have used the key she provided him and was merely baiting Clinton … hopefully with false information. If not, Harm had just revealed the location of a deadly device to a man that was not afraid to use it.

TBC ...


	12. Chapter 12

Trinkets - Part 12

"Hey, Al, I've got some information for you," Clinton said into his phone device after dialing a new number. "Don't sound so surprised; I told you that we just needed to give him the proper motivation to talk. … I'm not sure how good the intel is yet, though. Check and see if you can find an address for a Mrs. Osbourne that lives in Williamsburg, Virginia. … No, he didn't have a first name for her, but she works on the campus of William and Mary and lives really nearby the school. … And, uh, … she's got a son named Ben who would have been close in age to Munch. … That's right. Keep me posted on what you find."

After disconnecting the call, Clinton looked at Mac. "All this resistance really was for naught, hmm? … You should be flattered that your well-being means so much to Mr. Rabb."

Mac said nothing. She had no words at the moment.

Without letting go of the remote meant to keep Mac in line, Clinton pulled a bucket of water from the kitchen and placed it next to her.

"I'm in a good mood at the moment, so you can forego kissing Jake. After all, you're probably right that his spirit is long gone. But, … unfortunately, his body remains behind, so we have to do something about that."

Partly relieved that at least she wouldn't have to kiss a dead man, partly bracing herself for whatever next task Clinton had in store for her, and partly worried about Harm, his condition, and whether the information he had given was valid, Mac simply swallowed hard and stared at her captor.

"Yes, well, there's a sponge in that bucket," he told her. "We'll have to move the body, of course, but I'd like you to start cleaning that blood off of the floor and whatever else it splattered on. It'll only get harder to remove the longer we let it set."

Still, Mac remained silent.

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden, Sarah. No snappy comebacks, empty threats, or … righteous statements?"

She shook her head, no.

"Well, I'm somewhat disappointed. I was enjoying your … spunk. Be that as it may, I'm going to go upstairs now and get the details from Harm. You stay and work on wiping that up. There's a small amount of soap in the water. I'll get you some bleach when I come back down; I want to supervise you with chemicals."

"You're going to leave me down here alone?" Mac asked, somewhat surprised.

She had not expected him to leave her by herself. Besides, she wanted to go upstairs with Clinton. If Harm had managed to use the key to get free, then he would need help to subdue this guy.

"You won't be alone," Clinton pointed out. "Jake is here to keep you company," he said, gesturing to the dead man. "Oh, and if he bores you, you've got that lovely item on your back. It's got such an 'electric' personality! But, I'd be careful if I were you …"

He bent over, picked the sponge out of the bucket and threw it at Mac. She caught it, but water had splashed all over her in the process.

"Water and electricity don't mix." He smirked at her. "I'll be watching the monitors from upstairs. If you deviate from cleaning, … if you so much as _stretch_ in a suspicious manner, I won't hesitate to push this button."

Clinton assured her, "It's got quite a long range, so it will activate just fine from upstairs. And with you working with water, … if you do something stupid, it will likely be the last thing you ever do."

TBC ...


	13. Chapter 13

Trinkets - Part 13

'No, no, no, no.' The words repeated in Harm's head when he saw on one of the TV screens that Clinton intended to come up, but leave Mac downstairs … with that electric thing on her back. Without Mac here to back him up, even if Harm managed to knock the remote free, then he, by himself, was going to need to take Clinton out … after ensuring Mac's safety by _somehow_ keeping the remote permanently out of the villain's grasp.

Maybe, if Harm was lucky, before he would have to reveal that he'd gotten free of his bonds, he could get Clinton to set the remote down, if only briefly, and use that opportunity to attack. … After all, Clinton wouldn't need to be careful about keeping a firm grip on the controller up here. Mac would not be able to see whether or not he was holding the remote, so he ought to know that she would have to assume that he could zap her at any moment. And, in theory, Clinton would view Harm, supposedly handcuffed, as no threat.

Yes, Harm decided that, since his primary concern was for Mac's safety, getting their captor to voluntarily put the remote aside was the best scenario. Much better than causing the extra risk of getting Mac electrocuted if the button got pushed when Harm tried to grab the remote or knock it away. So much could go wrong in a struggle, and he didn't want to have Mac in any more jeopardy.

(())

As soon as Clinton turned to head for the stairs, Mac noticed that there was a gun in the shadows on the floor not too far from the other side of the body. It looked like Nichols had tried to use it, but had dropped it after he was shot. Her heart skipped a beat in sad surprise when she suddenly recognized the weapon as the gun that Nichols had confiscated from her when she had come in. Her eyes scanned the handle and barrel, confirming her familiarity with the weapon. That was definitely the gun that she had brought with her. It was a special gun … with no bullets.

She didn't know where Jake's own gun was, but if he had grabbed hers to defend himself, then he didn't have a chance to take Clinton out. She sighed. Another one of the plans that had failed … and had possibly even backfired if Jake could have eliminated his devil of a partner when they were down here. Using the term 'backfire' in this context seemed somehow inappropriate though, since the gun did not - and was not meant to - fire at all.

Mac thought back to the meeting in her office that morning. Bud, Sturgis, the Admiral, Harriet and she, herself, had brainstormed the best they could in preparation to get Harm back as safely as possible. Mac had refused to involve authorities of any kind, because she didn't want to disobey the instructions given to her in the box and risk Harm's life. She insisted on going to the restaurant alone, although she did allow the Admiral and Sturgis to bring a separate car to wait outside.

They had hoped that, if Mac was sent elsewhere, they would to be able to follow her to the next location. But they also knew that keeping up with her wouldn't be easy, especially if she was being escorted. Nichols specialized in security and would have no difficulty noticing a tail. With the amount of distance they'd have to keep, it was likely that they would lose her.

As it turned out, they never even had the opportunity to follow Mac, since she had to switch cars and was directed to use a different exit out of the restaurant. Mac knew that AJ and Sturgis would not have even been alerted to when she had left the restaurant, much less where she had gone. So, the plan to follow Mac hadn't worked, but that was somewhat expected. Bud had especially been pushing the issue of needing a plan B for knowing where Mac was being sent or taken.

The gang that morning had discussed the high probability that the kidnapper would take precautions against any kind of tracking device on Mac. She had not been surprised when, after getting instructions from the bar, she had been required to use an automobile provided by Nichols. That eliminated the ability to track Mac's car and, knowing Nichols, the car she was directed to use probably had technology to scramble any trackers on Mac's person.

They had also predicted that Nichols would give Mac a pat down and scan her for any devices when she reached the destination. … And that was where the gun had come in.

They all knew that Nichols would not let Mac keep a gun. If she went in, gun in hand, the first thing Jake would do, before searching her for anything else, would be to disarm her. Since guns are dangerous by definition, Nichols would have no reason to examine the gun that he would automatically take from her possession. So, having replaced the bullets with a battery-powered tracker, Bud would, in theory, be able locate the gun, and therefore Mac … and Harm.

The tricky part though was that the tracker could not be active from the get-go. If there were scramblers in the car, they could permanently destroy the accuracy of a tracker that was on. Even if there were only detectors in the car, they risked Jake knowing that Mac had a device on or with her, which would not be good. And on the off chance that Nichols did scan her _before_ taking the gun they couldn't risk her walking in to whatever situation with a live tracker in use.

So, the plan became that Mac would push a button on the gun to activate the device right before the gun was taken away. They just hoped that if Jake used scramblers to kill any tracking devices, that he would rely on them working during Mac's transit to meet him and would not use any scramblers wherever Harm was. Up to a point, the plan seemed to have worked.

_"Now, now," Jake had scolded her. "You can just drop that gun right there, and you won't need a flashlight."_

_Mac had hesitated, both out of caution and from not wanting to appear too eager to cooperate, which would have been out of character. _

_"Come on, Colonel, drop the gun or you won't make it another step."_

_Very slowly Mac raised both the gun and the flashlight so that they could be seen, and then she lowered them to the ground, making sure to covertly switch the safety to the on position, which Bud had told her would activate the tracker._

_"Good, now take off the jacket and put your hands up."_

_Mac did as she was told. Not a moment later, a pair of hands had snatched the jacket away and was patting her down for other weapons or devices. "You didn't really think I'd let you come in here armed, did you?" asked Nichols, shifting to check Mac's other side._

_"Couldn't hurt to try," Mac had said, stoically. Of course, he wouldn't let her keep a gun, but it was all part of the plan. "A handgun wasn't one of your rules," Mac had pointed out. "And the bartender only asked to confiscate my cell phone in exchange for me to get this address."_

_"Huh. I forget sometimes that you're a lawyer. Always lookin' for a technicality."_

Consulting her inner clock again, she concluded once more that – _technically_ - something with that plan had certainly gone wrong. If the tracking device had worked … help would have arrived long ago. … She and Harm were obviously on their own.

(())

The muscles in Harm's arms were starting to shake from the fatigue of holding his wrists in place to keep from breaking open the tentative handcuff locks made of gum. The earlier electric shock, the drugs, and the general weariness from his mistreatment weren't helping his arms either.

How was he supposed to fight Clinton in this condition? He could hear the footsteps on the stairs and knew that he would be faced with his opponent in a few brief seconds.

If Harm had not already set this plan in motion, he would have abandoned it now as being too risky for Mac. What was the likelihood that Clinton would set that remote down? And either way, it would be near impossible to wrangle Clinton and keep the remote from him until Mac was safely out of the electric harness.

In his weak state, there was no way that Harm would be able to subdue Clinton right now.

But, then, a voice inside reminded him that all that mattered was Mac's safety. Damn the odds! Harm was summoning up all the strength and abilities he could for what could be the fight of his life. … His life?

Maybe that was the solution. Maybe he couldn't beat Clinton; maybe Clinton would kill him. But maybe, Harm could at least make it so that he dragged the fiend down with him into the afterlife. Harm would willingly give up his own life to protect Sarah. After all, it was his fault that she was in this mess in the first place. He would not allow her to be hurt, no matter what the cost.

TBC ...


	14. Chapter 14

Trinkets - Part 14

Clinton had rushed up the stairs so as not to give Mac a chance to try anything before he got to the monitors to keep an eye on her. He was satisfied when he reached the second floor and saw that she was dutifully putting the soapy water on the floor, getting ready to scrub. It reminded him a bit of Cinderella, and the thought made him smile.

Harm, on the other hand, was very displeased. "I told you what you wanted to know. Why are you still having her … do stuff with the body?"

"Oh, Harmon, … You're still not functioning at a hundred percent yet, are you?" Clinton explained, "You talked, so I am not having her do anything 'extra' with the body, … at least as long as you continue to cooperate. But, I said before that I need her to help clean things up. Remember?"

(())

As Mac dipped the sponge into the bucket of water, tainting the clear liquid with the rusty color of Jake's blood, her mind was reeling with all sorts of thoughts about Harm and what, if anything, was about to happen upstairs. Had Harm been able to use the key to free himself? If he had, was he really in any condition to gain the upper hand?

She wanted so desperately to go up there, go hand-to-hand with Clinton, giving him a good beating in the process, and get Harm to safety. But that gadget on her back kept her trapped. It wasn't so much that she was scared of being electrocuted as she knew that she would be of absolutely no good to Harm if she got herself killed.

Mac finished wringing the excess blood from the sponge into the bucket and was ready to moisten it again in the rapidly reddening water in order to continue cleaning up the gory mess made when Nichols had been shot. It was then that a movement near the window caught her eye. The panes had been covered over by boards, but there was a crack of light on the right side of one window that had suddenly been blocked.

A surge of hope, followed quickly by panic, ran through her. Could it somehow be help? If so, she prayed that they would not come into where she was. If Clinton saw intruders on the monitors, he'd zap her and likely shoot Harm.

The alternative was that bad guys were outside - the killers who Clinton was doing business with. She assumed they were killers, anyhow. After all, they were looking to get their hands on a deadly device. They were probably terrorists.

Her guess was those people were not really on friendly, trusting terms with Clinton and wouldn't think twice about killing him once they got their info and device. They probably wouldn't even think_ once_ about killing her – they would just do it automatically.

Mac forced herself to continue her gruesome task, but she kept her eye on that windowpane. When a small, metal object appeared to snake its head through the small opening, Mac knew that someone out there, good or bad, was doing surveillance with a special camera. If it was help, Mac needed to urgently let them know NOT to break into the room she was in.

If it were terrorists looking to storm in and take over, she probably wouldn't fare much better. It would be best if whoever was out there managed to get upstairs directly from the outside. That would surprise Clinton and take his attention away from her rather than setting her up as a target.

Of course, she didn't know if having extra bad guys upstairs would be a better or worse thing for Harm, but she hoped that whoever was there would change the variables in a way that would give an advantage to her and Harm. Sometimes it helped when your enemies started fighting each other.

She needed to signal whoever was out there, friend or foe, that they needed to find a way upstairs without coming into the front room she was in. But she needed to do so without being obvious. Clinton's words echoed in her head, " … _if you so much as stretch in a suspicious manner, I won't hesitate to push this button."_

So, big hand gestures were out, as well as mouthing any words. She tried to remember the viewpoints from all of the monitors upstairs since looking around for the cameras would let Clinton know she was planning something. Recalling where she thought there might be a relative blind spot for her face, she turned her head slightly and pretended her nose itched. With her hands covered in blood, she wouldn't use her fingers to scratch it so she used her wrist, in the process, outstretching only her pointer finger.

As she rubbed her wrist upwards several times over her nose and stared at the snakelike camera, her eyes wide with urgency, she hoped the viewers got the message to head upstairs. She also hoped that her nose-scratch, which also involved a little sideways shake of the head with a message of 'no, don't come in here,' didn't appear to be suspicious enough for Clinton to zap her.

So far, no electricity. That was a good sign.

(())

"You have something for me to draw on?" asked Harm, knowing he had to act quickly. His arms could not stay up much longer. Besides, if he waited and Clinton got too close, the captor would notice the gum stuck on the cuffs.

Clinton's eyes narrowed. "You seem awfully eager to help all of a sudden."

"I'm tired," said Harm. "I just want to get this over with."

The other man walked over to the table and stared at the monitors for a bit. The marine down there was doing as she had been told, but she seemed rather fixated on something near the windows. Perhaps she was planning an escape, but he could tell from her body language, reticent as it was, that she was going to continue cleaning the area around Jake. She was scared of that thing on her back, … as well she should be.

Satisfied that the woman was under control, Clinton placed the remote on the table and picked up a pencil that he had set there earlier.

Harm sent up a quick thanks to God that the remote was out of the equation and that Mac was safe for the moment. All he had to do was take Clinton out … one way or another.

"I'm so glad you're cooperating," the villain stated as he made his way over to the bag to get some paper. "The one drawback, of course, is that you won't get to appreciate all the extra games I had in store."

He started taking several things out of his bag, showing them to Harm as he did. "The drugs, of course, you're familiar with. Some restraints … these are a bit more versatile than the handcuffs you're in. These would be great for pinning that lovely woman of yours …" He nodded towards the monitors "… to some piece of furniture while I have my way with her." Clinton smirked. "… That may happen, yet, … just for kicks."

Harm's jaw clenched. This guy was so going down! Clinton would be dead before he ever had a chance to even touch Mac again, even if that meant that Harm would kill himself in the process, too.

And the next thing out of the bag gave Harm the idea as to just how to do that.

TBC ...


	15. Chapter 15

A/N - **Warning** - In light of recent events and knowing the sensitivities of some, I just want to point out that this part (written long ago) involves the threat of an explosive device. I don't want to delay posting any more, because I know that many are waiting. Please use your discretion in reading this part.

A/N 2 - I've been asked about posting updates to 'F is for Fundamentals.' Yes, updates are possible - I've been working little at a time on that one, but haven't really reached a satisfactory place yet for posting more. Sorry that I can't offer any specifics on when I'll be ready for posting more.

Trinkets - Part 15

"This is one of my favorites," Clinton said proudly, taking out and holding up a small bar with some wires and an electronic timer attached to it. "Obviously, it's a bomb, but … it's a special invention of mine. It causes very local, very controlled explosions … with just the right amount of energy to blow body parts to bits."

Harm tried to examine the mechanism, searching for how to trigger the bomb. He knew that he wouldn't have the time or opportunity to set the clock on it, but if there was a pin to remove or wires to push together or pull apart to cause an immediate explosion, he might be able to get the thing to detonate right next to its inventor.

"I love this baby," Clinton continued, "because it's safe to use – for me anyway. I can be ten feet away and know I'll be in no danger when it blows …" He got a sort of dreamy, psychotic look on his face, as he finished, "but I can still enjoy being up close and personal."

Then he added, "It's often useful to have someone by my side to witness it, too. I find that forcing a person to watch someone they know being … vaporized into mere chunks of flesh before their eyes … Well, … it does wonders for getting cooperation."

Harm wasn't listening. Not really. … Except hearing that being ten feet away was safe. That meant that he could set the bomb off up here, and not have to worry about Mac getting hurt downstairs.

"This one time," Clinton bragged, "I actually blew off just a guy's leg, but kept him alive to talk. And talk he did! … So that I wouldn't blow any other parts of him to kingdom come! … I kept my word and didn't hurt him anymore. … Though he did die from blood loss."

The only thing in Harm's ears now was the rushing of blood. Where was the trigger? The damn thing was too small to really see any details from where he was.

"It's an art form, really."

Harm registered Clinton's last comment only enough for a fleeting thought that this guy was a sicko, … just like Palmer. But it was time to move. Harm took one last look at the monitor where he saw the picture of Mac on her knees. He'd protect her. That's all that mattered.

Clinton continued rattling on. "You know, it's all about strategy and understanding your target. I mean, I wouldn't have blown your leg off, because it wouldn't have mattered, … you'd just consider it sacrificing yourself for the greater good. And killing Sarah quickly would have been counter-productive, because you would have completely shut down. With the one thing that mattered, the person who you really care about, gone … you would have had no reason to talk. … But _threatening_ her, hurting her, … really gets under your skin and makes you -"

He suddenly stopped when he heard the clang of handcuffs hit the floor and saw a blur of uneasy, but determined, motion headed his way. Clinton grabbed the gun from his holster, but he was hit with full force before he could take the safety off.

Harm had called on every ounce of strength he had to propel himself towards his human target. When the gun came into view, he grabbed for it as he hit Clinton with all the weight he had.

Since Clinton had been trying to take the safety off with his one hand while placing the bomb on the floor with his other, he didn't have a good hold of the gun, allowing Harm the opportunity to get at it. But with his hands partly numb due to how he had held them up over the pipe again, Harm fumbled the metal weapon, and it fell to the floor, sliding a good five feet away.

Clinton started to reach for it, but Harm, already half on top of the other man, lunged forward again, keeping his opponent where he was. Clinton struck back, hitting Harm hard in the ribs. That move allowed Clinton to maneuver on top of Harm, though Harm kept Clinton from going after the gun by keeping his legs locked over the other man's.

(())

Mac was frozen. She had stopped her 'cleaning' when she heard noises above. Big thudding noises. She stayed on her knees, trying to decipher what developments were occurring upstairs. She wasn't sure at first if Harm had gotten himself free or if the people with the camera, which had since disappeared from the windowpane, had managed to break in on the second level.

She knew for sure that there was fighting up there, and, a moment later, recognizing Harm's distinctive voice grunt in pain, she easily discerned that Harm was in the scuffle … and was getting hurt. That was enough to set her into action, damn the consequences!

If Clinton electrocuted her, so be it, but Harm needed her help, so she had to at least try to get up there. Hopefully, Clinton was too occupied with fighting to bother keeping track of her at the moment. Besides, if Clinton was holding the remote, he'd probably zap her any second now anyway, whether accidentally in combat or purposely to punish Harm.

So, she sprung up and ran towards the stairs.

(())

Struggling to get his legs free, Clinton punched Harm in the face right over the place where he had struck him earlier with the chair. Harm ignored the stinging pain and the fresh blood that started flowing over his temple and cheek. His entire focus was on how to regain the upper hand. He used his elbow to slam into Clinton's jaw, which knocked the man off balance and allowed Harm to roll them over again. He was on top, and this time he managed to pin Clinton down in a proper hold.

Clinton struggled briefly before calming and stilling himself. To Harm's surprise, the other man smirked at him.

"You're in pain. … Your muscles are weak. … How long do you think you're going to be able to hold me down?"

"Long enough …" Harm replied, eyeing the bomb that was within arm's reach. Truthfully, his vision was becoming more blurred, but he knew what he had to do.

Harm quickly shifted his weight to better anchor himself over the other man so as to be able to grab the bomb. In one motion, he picked up the explosives and jammed the bar against Clinton's chest. "… to do what I need to do."

And with that, Harm flipped the activation switch that he found … and hit the detonation button.

(())

(())

Mac hadn't made it upstairs. Right before she had reached the staircase, she found her path impeded when a hand stretched out to grab her upper arm.

As the owner of the hand blocked her way, she pled to be allowed through, "I have to help."

"I'm under orders to keep you down here."

(())

Time seemed to stand still after Harm had hit that button.

He hadn't known what to expect – Instant oblivion? Intense pain? Immediate relief from the pain his poor body was already suffering?

As it turned out, it was none of those. He didn't feel any different at all, except for a sense of shock and disappointment. … Because nothing had happened. The bomb hadn't exploded. The weasel was still alive and well … and laughing at him.

"You thought I'd leave a fully operational bomb lying about in a bag that I left sitting around?" asked Clinton, amused by Harm's confused expression. "That's like leaving a loaded gun lying about in a house full of children."

Taking advantage of Harm's dumbfounded state, Clinton shoved him away and sat up. "There's a connector missing," he explained. "I don't put it in 'til I'm ready to use it."

TBC ...


	16. Chapter 16

Trinkets - Part 16

"What's on your back?" queried the man who had stopped Mac. "It looks dangerous."

"Only to me," she replied. "Let me through!"

He did not move to give her access to the stairs. "Not until we get this neutralized," he said, referring to the device strapped to her. "Do you know how to disarm it?"

"It's not a bomb," she dismissed his thoughts. "It's …" She didn't have time for this. "Just … get it off me!" She turned her back to give him access to where the straps had been bound. "Quickly!"

(())

Seeing that Clinton was eyeing the spot where the gun had landed stimulated Harm back into action. With a strength that came only from sheer desperation and determination, he lunged to grab at the other man, looping an arm around Clinton's waist and turning to heave him away from the gun and back towards where the supply bag sat.

Clinton wasn't about to lose, and the next twenty seconds were full of an intense back and forth between the men … hitting, wrestling, kicking, and slamming body parts against the floor or the wall, whichever was more convenient.

There was no doubt that Clinton was in far better shape, and he did not hold back. He delivered blow after severe blow to the Commander.

But Harm had reached a state of violent delirium. He felt no pain, only anger and the intense feeling that Clinton needed to be stopped before Mac got hurt. The latter notion that Mac had been pulled into this situation and put into danger only fueled Harm's rage, and he began mercilessly beating on his opponent.

He struck and pounded until an unexpected wave of weakness befell him. His arms suddenly refused to move with any force. Harm's head swam with dizziness, and everything blurred in what seemed like slow motion as he collapsed onto his side on the floor.

He had not even felt the prick of the needle that had been jabbed into his chest.

Clinton, now with his own blood dripping from his nose and mouth, sat up, very pleased with himself and his victory. During the battle, he had been able to grab a syringe from the drug kit, which had been lying on the floor next to his bag, and stick it in his opponent.

Although part of him wanted to keep Harm around for awhile to make him pay for the pain and embarrassment caused by this scuffle, Clinton decided that enough was enough. Harm was too much trouble.

He knew the injection would probably finish the naval officer off, but the now-injured villain was suddenly impatient. Panting heavily from the exertion of the fight, Clinton reached for and grabbed his gun. Then he aimed for Harm's head.

(())

Mac had almost been released from the electric device when she heard the gunshot.

She momentarily froze out of fear, but when she heard a second shot she ripped her arm through the last entanglement of the straps to free herself and then ran up the stairs two at a time.

Her heart stopped at what she saw.

Harm's body, even more battered than it had been earlier, was sprawled across the floor, not moving.

Clinton had dropped his gun. He had obviously taken a beating himself. He was fully leaning back against a wall, slowly sliding downward. It was when he nearly hit the ground that Mac noticed the vertical trail of crimson that was revealed on the wall above him. Clinton's blood. He had been shot.

Mac looked to the window to find a gun pointed in her general direction. But behind the gun was a familiar face.

Dismissing the newcomer as no threat to her, she turned her attention to Harm. When she knelt next to him, she noticed two things: 1) he was still alive, which gave her instant relief, even though he was largely non-responsive, and 2) he had a syringe sticking into his chest, which caused her a whole new level of fear.

Mac looked up at Clinton, who sat crumpled against the wall. "What did you stick him with?" she demanded more than asked.

Clinton turned his head to her. "He won't make it," was all he said.

Not the response she was looking for, Mac quickly got to her feet, jumped over Harm, and knocked into Clinton, pinning him to the wall by his neck. "What did you inject him with? Tell me!"

"Let him go, Sarah. He was suicidal anyways," said Clinton with a grimace that was due partly to his pain and partly his everlasting evilness. "Tried to blow himself up a minute ago."

"Don't lie to me," she insisted.

"He was probably trying to protect you," Clinton whispered through his pain. "Chalk up another man whose blood is on you."

Mac followed his gaze to her clothes, arms, and hands. She was covered in fresh crimson and dried auburn. Mostly Jake's blood from the cleaning. Some of Harm's from his various injuries. Now Clinton's blood from his gunshot wound added to the ever reddening look of her outfit, as she pressed forcefully against him, her forearm across his throat.

"I will gladly have your blood on my hands, and your dead body, too, if you don't tell me what you injected him with!" Full of abhorrence and anger, she leveraged her arm against his throat, cutting off at least part of his air supply.

"Colonel, stand down!" her Commanding Officer, who had made his way fully into the room from the window, ordered.

"He won't do us any good dead," he explained. "I'll work on getting info from this bastard," he insisted. In a slightly softer, but still urgent, tone, AJ added, "Harm needs you."

Mac knew the Admiral was right. She was too angry for a practical interaction with the malicious man. And someone had to tend to Harm before an ambulance arrived. Suddenly realizing that help needed to be summoned, Mac released Clinton, letting him slump to the floor.

"We need to call …"

"Already done," said Sturgis, who had made his way upstairs by this point. "An ambulance is on its way." He held his cell phone to his ear, apparently still on the line.

Mac hurried back to Harm. She noticed that the syringe had not fully been emptied, and not wanting to risk any more of whatever chemical it was to enter Harm's body, she grabbed the silver needle itself as close to Harm's chest as she could get with her thumb and a finger and carefully yanked it out of him without pressing on the plunger.

She dropped the syringe to the floor on her side and then lifted Harm's head to try to get a response.

"Harm? Come on, open your eyes for me," she pleaded.

She got no response and wasn't satisfied with having just her hand under his head. She needed to hold him, so she somehow managed to hoist him up enough to get her bent legs under his back, and she sat, cradling his head in the crook of her left arm.

"You're gonna be okay, alright, Harm? Help is on the way." Her right hand caressed his battered face examining his new injuries. She scanned his body, looking to make sure he wasn't shot. After all, she had heard two gunshots.

As far as she could tell, there was no telltale pool of blood from a bullet. But Harm was bleeding a lot from the wounds on his head.

He had been though so much abuse. "You've come this far, Harm. Don't give up on me now."

Harm's eyes fluttered open just a tiny bit.

"That's it, Harm." Mac was encouraged by seeing his eyes briefly register with hers. "You stay with me," she coaxed him.

His eyes fell closed again.

"You stay with me!" Mac repeated, this time as a command. "Harm, come on. Stay with me." Now she was pleading.

Water began to fall from Mac's eyes, providing a much-needed emotional release. A big salty drop landed on Harm's forehead, clearing a spot of the blood away to reveal his bruised and swollen skin. As another tear trickled down her cheek, Mac unthinkingly wiped it away with the back of her hand, smearing a reddish brown color across her face. It didn't matter. She was covered in blood at this point, and an increasing amount of it was Harm's.

She prayed that he would make it through. She needed him to stay alive. She needed him - Period.

Of the three men whose blood she literally had on her hands at the moment, it was Harm's fate, if his blood ended up being on her hands metaphorically, that would kill her.

"What can I do?" she asked quietly, trying to put pressure on some of his head wounds.

Sturgis noticed some clean cloth in Clinton's bag and tossed it to Mac so she could use that. She gratefully accepted and made quick work of applying it as best she could to slow the bleeding. But it was that injection to his chest that had her most concerned. Harm had already been drugged, beaten, electrocuted, and now poisoned with who knows what in that injection … How much could his poor body withstand?

"Harm, you need to stay tough, okay. It's over; he's not going to hurt you anymore. … But I need you to keep fighting … to stay with me … I still need you."

She fell silent then, opting to just cuddle him close and tend to his wounds the best she could. She occasionally pulled his head up tightly, but gently, to her chest and kissed his hairline. After one of the times she had done this, her eyes closed and her lips found their way near his ear. Without thinking, she whispered, "I love you."

TBC ...

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A/N - I'm hoping that you are somewhat satisfied that help has arrived and Clinton has been subdued, because this is where I'm leaving you until I have the time and inspiration to write more. I know there are still questions to be answered. The next part of this story will start with a new scene in a new location. And just to prove that I'm not being mean, I will go ahead and tell you that Harm will survive this story ... one way or another.

Thanks for all of the reviews!


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